


God-Fearing

by clockworkouroboros



Series: Gods Among Us [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkouroboros/pseuds/clockworkouroboros
Summary: The Doctor and her friends are visiting the planet Faure, known for being the most beautiful planet in the universe. But when they get there, it’s more post-apocalyptic wasteland than anything. What’s going on? How did the peace-loving Faurels get caught in this? And who’s this goddess who ruined everything?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a teen and up story for some (mild) language and scenes of torture. Don’t worry; I’ll put up warnings at the beginnings of any chapters featuring torture.  
> The story is set after Series 11 and the New Year’s Special.

The TARDIS was like a cavern, lit in golden and blue light, the supporting beams around the console like glowing quartz. It seemed really, properly alien, and, like the Doctor, beautiful, glowing, but with sudden dark shadows, like a monster lurked within. Yaz didn’t think she loved anything more in the world. Scratch that, in the universe. She’d seen a lot of amazing things since starting to travel with the Doctor, and she didn’t think any of them had managed to top the sheer exhilaration, joy, and fear she got every time she stepped into the TARDIS.  
Currently, the Doctor was dashing around the console like a madman (madwoman? Mad-alien? Yaz wondered), flipping switches and pushing buttons and generally looking like she was having the time of her life.  
“Where are we headed to now, Doc?” Graham asked, watching the Doctor as if her energy was making him tired.  
The Doctor looked up with a huge smile beaming across her face. “You know it as one of the stars in the Pleiades. The seven sisters. Well,” she added suddenly, “there’s actually more than seven stars in the Pleiades. Don’t know why you lot decided to call them that. They call the star cluster the Celestial Family. Well, that’s what it translates into in English.”  
“Okay, but what does that have to do with the name of the planet we’re going to?” Ryan asked, before Yaz could ask the exact same question. “You can’t just explore a star, Doctor. They’re all… big and fiery… and stuff.”  
“There’s only one planet that supports life in that solar system,” the Doctor replied, as if it were obvious. “The inhabitants call their planet Faure.”  
“Like the composer?” Graham asked. “He was alright, if you like that kind of thing.”  
“What, classical music?” The Doctor asked.  
“No, that wasn’t Classical,” Graham replied. “Faure was Romantic. Which is alright, I s’pose, but nothing will ever be better than some good Baroque music. Hey, Doc, you should take us to meet Bach!”  
“Did you know I once got into a sword fight with Bach?” The Doctor mused. “He called me a nanny-goat bassoonist. He went to jail because of the sword fight. Although I look a lot different now, I suppose. He probably wouldn’t recognize me.”  
Graham was about to say something, but Yaz cut him off. “Doctor? What about Faure? The—the planet, I mean, not the composer. You were looking like your birthday had come early piloting the TARDIS just now.”  
“Oh! Oh, yeah! Faure! It’s one of the most beautiful planets in the universe. I mean, Earth is really nice depending on where you go, but nothing beats Faure. And not only that, but the Faurels are some of the most peaceable, artistic beings in the history of the universe.”  
“Sounds boring,” Ryan said. “I mean, a planet that’s also an art museum? Nah. I’ll pass.”  
“Your nan would want you to go see this planet,” Graham said. “She always was saying how you needed to go to more art museums.”  
“Don’t worry, it’s not an art museum,” the Doctor said. “It’s very… interactive. And when I say art, I don’t just mean drawing and painting and sculpting. Although there’s that, too! But they’ve got music, and horticulture, and culinary arts. I mean, just about everything you can think of on Earth has been turned into an art form on Faure, plus a few other things besides. You like cars, don’t you?”  
Ryan nodded.  
“Well, they’ve got completely sustainable cars that are literally works of art. Completely sustainable! You should try it sometime. It’s a paradise on Faure, it really is.”  
“Then what are we waiting for?” Yaz asked. “Let’s go!”  
The Doctor pulled the big materialization switch, and the familiar groaning of the TARDIS sounded around them. The Doctor pushed another button after the groaning stopped, and the doors flew open. “Ready, gang?” She asked. Together, they stepped outside, to…  
…not a paradise.  
The sky was a milky gray, bare trees filling it in, like a canvas that hasn’t had the background painted in yet. Ruins of sculptures could be seen in the town square they’d materialized in, paint colors flaking off some of them. It was cold. A few large, black birds had already flocked to the top of the TARDIS to sit.  
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Yaz asked, viewing the deserted square and shivering.  
The Doctor’s mouth was open, her face confused. “This isn’t right…” she muttered. To Yaz, she said, “I double checked the coordinates! This is supposed to be Faure! And,” she added, “it looks like the town square of Pele, if Pele went through some kind of… armageddon. And I was trying to get to Pele. I have friends here. Or, I did.” She stopped talking then, suddenly, and looked around once more, taking everything in. She looked like she might start crying.  
A door on the other side of the town square opened tentatively, and a middle-aged man beckoned at the group. “Come in!” He called, trying to keep quiet. “It’s not safe outside!”  
They listened to him, running across the town square to the door. Yaz wondered briefly why they hadn’t just gotten back into the TARDIS, then reflected that the Doctor would want to stay and figure out what was going on.  
Once they had gotten inside, the Doctor closely inspected the man’s face. He looked just like a human, Yaz thought. She wondered why so many aliens looked human. The Doctor probably knew the answer, but she didn’t want to seem rude to the alien.  
The man had thinning brown hair and a short gray beard. His eyes were large and wide-set, his nose aquiline. His skin was pockmarked and he looked a little deranged. “Where’s the Doctor?” He asked. “I saw the box appear. That’s the Doctor’s. Is he still inside?”  
“Mekken!” The Doctor exclaimed suddenly. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in centuries.” She looked over him, then seemed to remember. “Oh! I’m the Doctor. I… changed. But then again, so have you.”  
Mekken looked at her suspiciously. “I’ve only gotten older. I’m not a teenager anymore, Doctor. If you’re the Doctor. Last time I saw the Doctor, he was a big guy with curly hair and a rainbow suit. And you had a talking flightless bird.” He looked from Graham to Yaz to Ryan. “Are these your new friends?”  
The Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “This is Ryan, and this is his granddad Graham, and this is Yaz. We’re best friends.”  
Mekken raised his thick eyebrows. “What happened to your talking flightless bird?”  
Yaz registered for the first time how odd that sounded. “Yeah, Doctor. What’s this about a talking flightless bird?” Mentally, she added, And a rainbow suit?  
“Oh, he was a friend of mine,” the Doctor said, trying to sound casual. Yaz knew she didn’t like talking about the past. “Frobisher. He was a shapeshifting alien species. He liked to go around as a penguin. He was a very good detective.” She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, then she shook herself. “Anyway. Mekken! What’s happened? Faure used to be–”  
“A paradise?” Mekken interrupted sarcastically. “It hasn’t been for ten years, Doctor.”  
“Ten exactly?” The Doctor asked.  
Mekken rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t remember, alright? No one really noticed at first. It was just the temple, you know? It was around ten years ago when things really started changing, but they’d been changing bit by bit before then. Now everything’s dead. People are dying. Well, we think they’re dying.”  
“Why do you just think that?” He had the Doctor’s full attention, that was for sure. Yaz wondered if the Doctor even remembered her companions when she was like this. “Why aren’t you certain?”  
Mekken licked his lips, and looked nervously from the Doctor to Ryan to Yaz to Graham. “Not in here,” he stated. “Come in. I’ve got a sitting room, you know. It’s a long story. But we have to be careful. And fast. People will be coming for you. It’s just a matter of time.” He ushered them into the sitting room, looking nervously over his shoulder at the door, as if he thought it would burst open at any moment.  
It was a plain house, although traces remained of former beauty. Paintings hung on the walls, the canvases ripped through with jagged scratches, as if someone had taken a knife to them. A beautiful glazed vase sat in large, broken pieces in the corner. The intricate rugs were frayed and coming apart. The chairs had torn upholstery, stuffing from an armchair spilling out onto the floor. The Doctor gazed at the wreckage in shock, and Yaz wondered once more if the Doctor was going to cry.  
When Mekken stepped in, ushering for them to sit down, the Doctor finally looked up from the destruction. Her brown eyes were large, and she seemed unable to blink. “What happened?” She whispered.  
Mekken sighed, and collapsed in one of the torn armchairs, wincing as he did so. “The gods came back, Doctor. Or, at least, one of them did.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked. “Someone’s going around pretending to be a god?”  
Graham shushed Ryan quickly, who raised his hands in a questioning shrug. “What? I was just trying to–”  
“Good question, Ryan, but the wrong one for right now,” the Doctor told him. “Go on, Mekken.”  
“The goddess is angry, Doctor,” he said quietly, licking his lips again. “We strayed from our true purpose. We were too busy creating art. We were destined for the stars, Doctor. That’s what she told us.”  
“But nothing is more important than your art, your culture,” the Doctor cried indignantly. “She had no reason to say anything of the sort! This was the most beautiful planet in the history of the universe!”  
“What could we do, Doctor?” Mekken asked. “She is a goddess. She has proven that much to us. She has created natural disasters, disasters our scientists couldn’t predict. She took away all the oxygen in the air for five seconds. She made the day night and the night day. And she wanted us to destroy our art.” He nodded around the room sadly.  
“But that’s not the worst of the atrocity, is it?” The Doctor guessed. “If I remember from the last time I was here, your people have psychically and empathically enhanced minds.”  
“You remember correctly,” Mekken said.  
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Graham asked.  
Mekken sighed. “They don’t talk as much as your detective friend,” he told the Doctor. “But they ask more questions.”  
“Fine, I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” Graham said, crossing his arms in front of him.  
“Anyway,” the Doctor said, almost cutting over Graham, “you were saying?”  
“I was talking about, uh,” Mekken said. He paused. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”  
“No,” said the Doctor decisively. “Oh—do you have the little powdery–”  
Yaz cleared her throat.  
“–Never mind,” said the Doctor sheepishly. She made a face at Yaz. “So: your people have psychically and empathically enhanced minds.”  
“Yes,” said Mekken slowly, hesitantly.  
A fist pounded on the door. Mekken’s eyes darted to the hallway, then back at the assembled friends in his sitting room. “I’ll go see who that is,” he said, almost apologetically. He rose to leave the room.  
And then the door flew down the hall and into the room, hitting him in the side full force.  
There wasn’t time to stop and think. Yaz tried to open the window, so they could escape that way, but it wouldn’t budge.  
“Out of the way!” Ryan shouted. He picked up the largest pieces of the broken vase and chucked them at the window with all his force. They bounced to the ground without breaking the window and shattered into smaller pieces.  
Seven people burst into the room, wearing what looked like motorcycle helmets over their heads. Their faces were completely obscured. They were carrying guns, but they didn’t look like the guns Yaz was used to seeing. They were sleek and cold, metallic gray, without any sign of a trigger. She wondered how they worked. She wondered briefly if they were guns at all, but the Doctor’s face confirmed her fears.  
The Doctor raised her hands in the air, breathing hard. She had been trying to find other ways out of the room. “We surrender,” she said quickly. “Just—take us to your leader. Your goddess.”  
The helmeted guards said nothing, but grabbed each person and forced their arms behind their backs. Yaz trusted the Doctor, and so she didn’t fight back, but she wanted to. She just wished someone could tell her what was going on.  
One of the helmeted figures who hadn’t helped secure them made several hand gestures at the others. They appeared to be using a form of sign language. Yaz wondered what they were saying, and why they weren’t just speaking. She saw Mekken rubbing his side, standing behind the leader. He wasn’t secured as a prisoner. Yaz wondered what was going on. The Doctor had seemed so trusting of him. They knew each other from before, before the Doctor was… who she was now.  
The helmeted figures began marching them out of the house. Yaz shivered as the cold air hit her face. Her guard began marching her across the town square, in a different direction than the others. She tried to glance back at the others, but was shoved on before she could see anything other than Graham, attempting a sympathetic smile.  
And then she was hit on the head with something large and heavy and cold, and she fell to the ground in a slump.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This book is rated Teen and up for (mild) language and sequences of violence/torture. This chapter has no torture.

The Doctor watched helplessly as Yaz crumpled to the ground. She didn’t shout out, she didn’t cry. She felt numb. Although that might have been the cold. She wrenched her arms out from behind her back and turned around to face the guard. “We’re you’re prisoners, then? For you to torture and hurt and kill as you see fit?”

    The guard watched her impassively. At least, she thought the guard was watching her impassively. She couldn’t see their face through the helmet on their head. Come to think of it, they didn’t have any skin showing. She guessed that would be important. Or was it? She couldn’t tell. Ever since they’d stepped outside the protection of the TARDIS, it had felt like there was something in her head, something pressing up against it, beating her mind down. She could fight it, but it took so much concentration. And concentration was one thing she had trouble with in this incarnation, she reflected. It was so difficult to focus on something for any length of time.

    So now, as the guard wrenched her arms back behind her and kept marching, she tried to focus. Focus on this thing pressing up against her brain, against her consciousness. And maybe, just maybe, she could think of an escape plan for her and Ryan and Graham. They had to save Yaz. She risked one last glance at Yaz. She was being picked up, held like a broken doll by the guard, carried off in that direction.

    She craned her neck around, trying to peer at her captor. Even if she couldn’t see their face, she wanted them to see hers. “There was no need to do that,” she said. “Yaz wasn’t fighting. Why did your pal knock her out? Was he killing her?”

    Her captor remained frustratingly silent. “Come on, then,” the Doctor said. “I’m not all that bad. I like chess and donuts and playing violin. There. Now you know some things about me.” The guard continued marching. “Oh, come on,” the Doctor complained. “You’re supposed to be telling me about yourself! I want to hear about your family or your art or your gardening. _Something_. I know you’re not just an empty shell. Everyone has something that makes them unique.” She smiled her best winning smile at them. It made her neck hurt, what with it being turned around like that. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be focusing on fighting that presence that was beating down on her mind.

    “Wait a moment,” said the Doctor quietly.

    “Do you have some kind of plan?” Graham asked.

    “I’m currently trying to think of one, Graham, thank you for reminding me,” the Doctor replied, a touch annoyed. She fell silent, studying the brown of her boots as they walked. The brown was an interesting shade of brown. The browniest brown she had ever seen, in fact. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She had seen a brownier brown back—

    Stay focused, Doctor. She lifted her head, careered over to the side so she was walking alongside Ryan, who was struggling as he walked. She leaned over to him, and he leaned in to her. “Do you have a plan?” He asked.

    The Doctor tried to shrug, but her arms were held in too awkward of a position to allow it. Then she smiled, opened her mouth wide, and let out a shrill scream.

    Ryan flinched away from her, trying to jump even farther away. He stumbled, held fast by the ever-stoic guard. “What the hell was that for?” He cried.

    The Doctor straightened up and looked around, clearly proud of herself. “I was right!” She exclaimed.

    “About what?” Graham asked.

    “Yeah,” Ryan complained. “Were you trying to make me go deaf? That was right in my ear.”

    “Oh. Sorry, Ryan. Didn’t mean to. I was conducting an experiment on our captors.” The Doctor didn’t sound very apologetic. “And this is the important part:” She paused for dramatic effect. “I was right.”

    “You already said that,” said Graham. “And I asked what you were right about.”

    “Oh. Oh, right.” The Doctor grinned. “The guards are deaf.”

    “And you know this just from shouting a bit?” Graham asked.

    “It wasn’t a bit, Granddad,” Ryan said. “It was full-on, proper shouting. In my ear.”

    “If they’re deaf,” the Doctor said, ignoring them, “then we can plan our escape out loud. If we can run faster than them, we can go back to the TARDIS. Get in there, figure out a way to save Yaz. Save Yaz. Save Faure. In that order. I want to meet this goddess, but I don’t want to be a prisoner when that happens. She seems nasty.”

    “What a well-thought-out plan,” Graham said, deadpan.

    “If you have a better one, I’d like to hear it!”

    “Look,” said Ryan, interrupting the two. “Let’s argue _after_ we escape from these guys and get back to the TARDIS. If we don’t act soon, it’ll be too late. And anyway, it’s freezing out here.”

    “You should have packed an extra coat,” Graham advised. The Doctor and Ryan stared at him. “Sorry for suggesting it,” he muttered.

    The Doctor ignored him. “Alright, fam,” she said. “Here’s the plan. I count to three, we all kick the leg out from our guard, we wrench our arms away from them, we run like hell back to the TARDIS. Any questions?”

    Graham and Ryan shook their heads. The Doctor grinned. “One… two… _THREE!_ ”

    The Doctor easily turned herself around and kicked the guard’s leg out from under him, flipping him to the ground as casually as if she’d just cracked an egg. Actually, she reflected, she was probably better at taking out bad guys like that than she was at cracking eggs. She wasn’t all that good at cooking. Still couldn’t make a decent piece of toast, not since one of her past companions forbade her from using artron energy to make it. She ran like hell, not looking back. It was fine; she could hear footsteps behind her, and she knew her guard couldn’t be that quick to get up, not after what she did to it.

    When she got back to the square, Mekken’s door was already fixed. Did he have a backup door? The original had been completely broken down. She wondered if he had somehow informed the guards that they were there. He hadn’t been captured along with them. Too many questions, not enough answers. First, she had to get into the TARDIS. It could help shield her from the presence in her mind.

    She ran to the TARDIS, digging in her pockets for the key, jamming it into the lock with reckless abandon, opening the doors, stumbling through into her TARDIS. Her mind was back to normal. The entire area felt warm and comforting. She heard footsteps following her and turned around, just to make sure it wasn’t a guard.

    It was Graham, panting, out of breath. He shut the door behind him. “There we are!” He gasped. “Safe from those people. Your plan actually worked, Doc.” He looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

    The Doctor walked over and peeked through the window. She turned to Graham. “Where’s Ryan?”

    “What d’you mean, where’s Ryan?” He cried. “He’s with you, isn’t he?” He did a double take, glancing fretfully around the console room. “Isn’t he?” He asked again, quietly.

    “Ryan’s still out there,” the Doctor said. “He might have gotten lost on the way back to the square, or his guard managed to trip him.”

    “Or he might have tripped on his own and been caught,” Graham suggested. “Dyspraxia and all that.”

    “We just don’t know,” said the Doctor. She was feeling angry, she realized suddenly. Really, truly angry. She hadn’t been actually angry in a very long time. Oh, she had felt annoyed. There had been some anger, all justified. Being treated like a dunce because she now looked like a woman, for one thing. When she saw that Dalek on New Year’s, she had felt a spark of the old anger and fear. But she was a new person. A changed person. She was going to be a positive influence on the universe, and you can’t be a positive influence on the universe if you’re always angry.

    But this was unnecessary. This planet of insurmountable beauty, of art and culture mingling beautifully with technology and science, was ruined. Her old acquaintance Mekken had (presumably) reported them to those odd guards, or police, or whatever they were. Yaz was knocked out and taken to an undisclosed location. Ryan was missing, probably still a prisoner of those people. She had every reason to feel the familiar old anger.

    The Doctor wondered if the anger was so bad. That scared her a little bit. She wanted to say that all anger was wrong. But this was anger at evil. Surely there was a difference between that and Dalek-style anger.

    She shook her head. “No,” she said aloud, quietly.

    “What did you say?” Graham asked.

    “I said ‘no.’” She raised her eyes to meet Graham’s, her eyes full of fire. “I think the events are being manipulated here to produce a negative response from everyone on the planet. And I’m saying ‘no.’ I won’t let that happen. Not to me. Not to you, either, if I can help it.”

    “I wish I shared your optimism,” Graham confessed. “But look at the facts, Doc.”

    “I have,” the Doctor said, cutting him off before he could continue. “And the fact that I’m still alive, that I’m still an optimist, that I still have my TARDIS, after all this time? That shows that facts don’t mean a bloody thing.”

    “Uh, Doc?”

    “What?”

    “Can you stop swearing?” Graham looked embarrassed. Apologetic, even. “I’m just not used to hearing you swear. It sounds wrong coming from you.”

    The Doctor suddenly smiled. It was very enigmatic, she was sure. She liked being enigmatic. She also knew it was horribly out of place, given what had just happened in the past half-hour. She really wasn’t all that good at doing the right emotions at the right time, was she? But it was okay now, because she looked younger than before and a little more naive. Not quite so ‘angry-Scot.’

    “Graham, we need a plan. An actual, proper plan. We’re going to need to do some sneaking around. I _love_ sneaking around. We’ll need to find out where this goddess lives. And where Ryan and Yaz are being kept.”

    “I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Graham said. “I just need to keep Ryan safe. I’ve got a duty of care for that boy. I really do love him.”

    The Doctor didn’t speak for a moment, overcome with a flood from the past. “I—I know you do,” she replied. “And I know how serious those are. But Graham–” She broke off. Graham looked at her expectantly. “If something happens to Ryan,” she said hesitantly. “You won’t go beating yourself up. We all know the dangers of traveling in the TARDIS. Ryan’s an adult. A duty of care means you’ll try to protect him, but the universe can be cruel. If something happens to him, it’s not your fault.”

    “Just try and stop me from keeping him safe,” Graham retorted. “You don’t know what it’s like, trying to be a good granddad to a teenager.”

    The Doctor almost smiled. “You’d be surprised, Graham,” she told him. “You would be very, very surprised.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is rated Teen and up for (mild) language and sequences of violence/torture. This chapter does not have any torture.

When Yaz woke up, she couldn’t tell where she was. She could tell she was tied to a cold slab of rock. She could tell that bonds held her wrists to the rock. She could tell that a similar leather strap over her forehead held her head down, as well as bonds around her ankles holding her legs down. She had a decent view of the room, as the slab was tilted.

She was alone, as far as she could see. It was a plain, stone room, kind of like how she’d always pictured a dungeon. She hadn’t ever actually seen a dungeon, though. There was a wooden table at the far end of the room. It looked like it was covered in intricate carvings, beautiful carvings. But deep gashes obscured them, like huge scars over someone’s face. She shuddered, wondering what did that to the table. Was it a living thing? Did someone vandalize it?

Her head hurt. In fact, she was sore all over, but her head hurt worse than anything else. It pounded like someone was hitting her over the head with a boulder repeatedly. The rest of her body was just stiff from being forced to stay in the same position for… however long she had been laying on this slab. She didn’t know how long she’d been here. But her head was making her nauseous.

She heard movement behind her and began to panic a little bit. She didn’t know who else was in the room with her, and she couldn’t exactly turn around and see. She heard a door shut and footsteps walk closer to her. She tensed.

The person walked around the slab so that they were standing directly in front of Yaz. It was a woman; thin, with light brown hair streaked with gray and white. Her lips were thin and almost as pale as her skin. She looked like she hadn’t seen sunlight in years. She carried a gray bowl; it looked like it was made of some kind of stone. Yaz wondered how difficult it was to make a bowl out of stone.

“Hi,” Yaz tried to say, but her voice came out cracked. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she couldn’t seem to get any moisture into it.

The woman didn’t speak, but extended the bowl slowly, tipping it into Yaz’s mouth like she was feeding a baby.

It was broth of some sort. It didn’t taste good, but Yaz was hungry. She didn’t know how long she’d been without food. When the bowl was empty, the woman took it away from Yaz’s lips. Yaz tried to smile at her. “Thanks,” she said. Her voice was fine now.

The woman flashed a quick, tremulous smile.

“I’m Yaz,” Yaz continued. “What’s going on? Where am I? Why am I tied up?”

The woman watched her with uncertainty. She looked like she wanted to say something.

“It’s alright,” Yaz said, trying to sound reassuring. “I won’t tell anyone. Who would I tell? I don’t know anyone. Besides,” she added, remembering one of the Doctor’s favorite tactics, “I need friends. Would you be my friend?”

The woman’s lips contracted into a barely visible straight line. She abruptly walked away, back behind the slab.

“No! Don’t leave!” Yaz cried desperately, but she knew it was too late already. The door slammed, and Yaz was once more left in silence.

Well. That hadn’t gone as well as it could have. At least she had some food in her stomach, though, she thought. And her head wasn’t pounding quite as badly. She could think a little more clearly.

She was scared, yeah, but she wasn’t unnecessarily scared. The Doctor always saved the day in the end. Actually, come to think of it, she wasn’t sure how the Doctor had such a good record with keeping her and Graham and Ryan safe. Would the Doctor be able to keep a perfect record? It was only a matter of time before the Doctor failed in some way.

No. She trusted the Doctor. She had to. She didn’t have any other choice.

Time passed slowly for her. There was nothing to do, nothing to look at. Just sitting on a slab, feeling her joints get stiffer with every passing second, and waiting. She didn’t even know what she was waiting for.

Eventually, the thin woman came back and undid Yaz’s restraints, smiling at her tentatively. Yaz thanked her enthusiastically. She  _ had _ made a friend, after all! She was going to get out! And she wouldn’t even need the Doctor to rescue her.

Her enthusiasm dampened considerably when the woman led her to a small toilet in the corner. The woman pointed to it, still not saying anything.

“Can you like, turn around or something?” Yaz asked. The woman shook her head.

A few horribly awkward minutes later, Yaz was being led back to the slab by the woman, and she began to realize just how much she didn’t want that. The slab was cold and hard and it hurt. She was even struggling to walk because of how long she’d been stuck on it. To make matters worse, she was cold. The slab would only make it worse. She pulled away from the woman and tried to find something to fend her off.

The woman’s face changed from a nervous friendliness to fear. At least, that’s what it looked like. Great. Yaz had made her scared. Just what she  _ didn’t _ want to do to a potential ally.

And then, without thinking, she had rushed the woman like an American football player, trying to run past the woman, and who cared if the woman ended up going down. The door was right there. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t made a run for it before. She got to the door while the woman was still getting up, fumbling with the handle, pulling the door open… 

...And she was in the corridor. It was a long, low hallway made of cold stone. Yaz shivered. It was almost worse out here than it was in the cell. She wondered why she’d run out. Doing something without thinking was not a habit with her. And she hadn’t been thinking when she tackled the woman to the ground.

What was going on? She’d had some semblance of a plan: befriend the woman, get the woman to help her escape. Sure, it hadn’t been much, but it had been a hell of a lot better than alienating the woman, overcoming her with pure physical strength, and getting lost in the dungeons. Or wherever she was.

She heard noise behind her and, again without thinking, pulled the door shut before the woman could get out. It latched securely, trapping the woman inside. Yaz was alone in the corridor.

She picked a direction at random and began to walk, wondering if she was going the right way or if she was just going farther and farther into whatever hellhole she’d woken up in.

If she let her eyes look in the distance, unfocused, the corridor looked slightly curved. She wondered if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her—her right eye had astigmatism, and she wasn’t sure if it would affect something like that. She kept walking, though, because she had nowhere else to go but forward. Into the gloom. She shivered again, and hugged herself tightly.

As she walked, she began to think more of the Doctor. She trusted the Doctor implicitly, one of the few things she didn’t need to think about. The Doctor was Good. Always. If there was one thing Yaz knew, it was that the Doctor would save her and save the planet. They’d all be gone with the planet saved, home in time for tea. That’s how it worked.

But then she remembered Mekken. He knew the Doctor from a long time ago. From that time the Doctor occasionally referenced, when she was a man. Yaz didn’t care if the Doctor was trans or not. To be honest, she wasn’t sure that the Doctor was a woman even now. Sure, she  _ looked _ like one, but there was something odd about the Doctor, something that made you think she was just… beyond things like gender.

But even aside from all of that, who was the penguin detective they’d been talking about earlier? Did the Doctor usually travel with aliens? How many people had she travelled with? Why didn’t she ever talk about them? Why didn’t she ever talk about the planet she was from, for that matter? It seemed like the Doctor should be full of stories, but she never actually told any. She never said much, actually, beyond the technobabble and the frequent statements about how much she loved her friends. Yaz wondered why.

And then there was the matter of the Dalek on New Year’s. In the moment, killing the Dalek had seemed like the right thing to do, from the Doctor’s description. The Doctor had seemed almost panicked, checking with everyone that it was the right thing to do. Had the Doctor been manipulating them? Yaz was usually pretty good at spotting manipulation, but it had been an intense moment. And she had never once thought the Doctor would be manipulative. The Doctor was too Good.

When they’d killed the Dalek, when it was stuck on Ryan’s dad, they had almost died. All of them. Was the Doctor willing to sacrifice them to kill it? That seemed so unnatural in comparison to everything else the Doctor had ever done. Yaz remembered Graham quietly telling her about what he did to T’zim-Sha, and how the Doctor had said he couldn’t kill the evil alien. And that was when Yaz had first started wondering about her friend.

She didn’t want to doubt the Doctor. The Doctor seemed to radiate Good. But what else could she do? The Doctor had said Graham couldn’t kill the alien who killed his wife. Alright, then. But she applauded Graham for being the bigger man when he… trapped T’zim-Sha in a fate almost worse than death.

For that matter, now that she was thinking about T’zim-Sha, hadn’t the Doctor stuck five DNA bombs on him when they first met him in Sheffield? That was a recipe for death if ever there was one.

What was wrong with the Doctor? Now that she actually had time alone, time to think and process it all, the Doctor was seeming more and more hypocritical. Less Good.

Yaz shivered, but it was less from the cold and more from sudden fear spiking into her heart. The sort of fear that you have to either hide from or fight. Yaz had never in her life run from a fight. She’d gotten suspended once when she was twelve for knocking out a bully. (The bully had also gotten suspended, which was the only reason she put up with her punishment). But this was different. She wanted to run to her grandmother, like she used to when she was very small and had nightmares. Her grandmother used to hold her until she fell asleep, safe in someone’s arms. But there was no one there for her to go to now. She was completely alone. Alone for… how long? It felt like hours. Or maybe it was only a few minutes. She couldn’t tell.

She sank to the ground then, hugging her knees. She didn’t know who she could trust. She didn’t have anyone to run to. No one had ever told her about this part of growing up.

“Interesting.”

Yaz jerked her head up, around, trying to find the source of the voice. “Hello?” She asked, then immediately got mad at herself for doing the classic Stupid Thing that everyone does in a horror movie.

“I wonder…” the voice was muffled, like it was coming through a tunnel, and Yaz couldn’t catch what the person was wondering.

Yaz strained to hear what else the person might say, but nothing came forth. She wondered where the voice had come from. When the person had been speaking, there hadn’t seemed to be a source. Just… sound.

She rested her head against the stone wall. It was cold and damp against the back of her head. Her eyes began to close involuntarily, like someone had dropped weights on them. Her head lolled to the side, and she lost consciousness.

—*—

“Will that be all, Oh Holy One?”

Yaz opened her eyes, but the figures in her line of vision were blurry.

A woman answered the question. “Oh, yes. For now. I found the exercise most… interesting. It’s really astonishing how contradictory her feelings towards this Doctor are. That’s something to quiz her about.” There was a moment of silence, then the woman spoke again. “Now leave me alone, or I’ll send you to the Chamber. I want to have a moment alone with this young woman. She’s awake now. Aren’t you, Yasmin?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There’s a bit of torture in this chapter. Nothing too serious, but it’s good to leave a warning.

“Where am I?” Yaz asked. Her mouth was so dry she was almost choking on her tongue. She blinked a few times, and the woman came into focus a little bit. She was a pretty enough woman. Her hair was black, but the long bangs in front were streaked with white. It reminded Yaz of Cruella de Vil.

The woman was smiling. Yaz knew that before she could even see her. She could hear it in her voice when she’d been talking to the other person, the one who had left the room. “You’re with me,” she replied, being completely unhelpful.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Yaz said. She tried to sit up, but she was tied down again. It felt like a wooden board, or maybe a table, this time. “Let me out of here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Let. Me. Out.” Yaz said, enunciating each word slowly. “I need to get back. I’m cold and hungry and tired and sore and my head hurts. Let me out of this place.”

“Now why would I want to do that?” The woman asked. She tucked a loose strand of white hair behind her ear. “It would be so much more satisfying to hurt you.”

Yaz breathed deeply, trying not to show that she was actually quite scared, thank you very much, and she’d really like for  _ this _ to be some weird nightmare, too.

The woman leaned closer, close enough that Yaz could feel breath on her bare neck. “Tell me, Yasmin Khan,” the woman breathed in her ear. “You’re not a Faurel. What are you doing on this planet?”

“I’m a traveller,” Yaz tried. It was the truth, after all. “I kept hearing about how beautiful Faure is. Wanted to see for myself. Obviously this is a case of the brochure talking it up.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, it’s beautiful, alright. When I first came here, years ago, it was ugly. Sunshine and rainbows. Too much of a utopia for anyone. How  _ dull _ it all was.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a utopia,” Yaz said, not sure where she was going with this argument.

“Oh, no,” the woman said, agreeing with her. “There’s nothing wrong with a utopia. But don’t you see, Yasmin? This  _ is _ utopia.”

“It seems pretty bloody awful,” Yaz replied. “I’ve seen worlds that are literally full of things that could kill you. I mean, the air was poisonous. The water could kill you. But it was still better than this place.”

“Oh, but this planet is much more exciting, Yasmin,” the woman said. “Near death experiences are so old. Everyone has them these days. It loses its charm after awhile. There are so many other things that would be more satisfying.” She looked at Yaz with her eyes half-shut, the heavy lashes dark. “There’s a very exciting new element on this planet, Yaz. And I think you know who it is. What can you tell me about the Doctor?”

Whatever happened to her, she was  _ not _ going to tell the woman anything about the Doctor. That would be bad. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Yaz stated resolutely.

“Oh, I think you do,” the woman replied. “You see, I’m no fool. I know you know someone called the Doctor. Someone who you trust with your life, but you barely know. I think I might know the Doctor. Although the Doctor that I know was always more—intimate—with my sister.” She gave a small sigh, then brightened. “Of course, recently, the Doctor has rather spurned her and come back to me.” She smiled, and Yaz  _ felt _ the smile in the depths of her being.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said again, breathing hard. There was something nauseating about feeling someone else’s emotions.

And then the feeling in her gut  _ twisted _ and Yaz went rigid, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to see.

“I don’t  _ like _ it when people lie to me,” the woman said.

She  _ twisted _ again, and Yaz’s back arched, her head slamming against the wooden table. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, oh God, she was going to die, all she could feel was pain and that twisting in her gut, like a knife was slowly cutting out her insides. Maybe a knife was cutting out her insides and she couldn’t see it. Everything was white and her head pounded, pounded, and she couldn’t make a sound because she couldn’t breathe and 

“Oh, did you not like that?” The woman asked. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not, and I’m no liar. I  _ hate _ liars.” She leaned in close to Yaz again, Yaz who was collapsed and weak, shaking. The bonds around her wrists had cut into the skin and were slowly getting soaked with blood. “I’m going to hurt you again,” she said. “And then, you can tell me about the Doctor.” She straightened back up. “Oh, and Yaz? This time, I want to hear you scream.”

She  _ twisted _ and Yaz screamed, like her very soul was being torn from her.

The woman watched her with satisfaction. “That’s  _ much _ better.” She let Yaz twist and writhe on the table for a few minutes more, then dropped her. “Now, What do you know about the Doctor? Who is he? Where is he?”

“He?” Yaz gasped. She lay limply on the table, the bonds holding her down being the only things keeping her from falling off altogether. She was shuddering uncontrollably.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Yes,  _ he _ ,” she said. “I know the Doctor of old. Face-changer? Life’s great champion?” Her voice grew sarcastic. “Like I said, he had a flirtation with my sister.”

“The Doctor’s not–” Yaz tried to say, but she shuddered violently as she spoke, and her voice broke off.

The woman leaned in closer. “The Doctor’s not what?” She asked softly. Dangerously. “I see that you know him, despite what you were saying earlier.” She paced around the room, her long robes sweeping the floor. “I said before that I hate liars. And you, Yasmin Khan, just  _ admitted  _ that you lied to me. That’s a dangerous move. How do you know I won’t hurt you again, just for that?”

“I don’t,” Yaz replied, with as much strength as she could muster. She could feel warmth on the back of her head, something warm and wet. She wondered what it was. It was making her dizzy, whatever it was. “But I know that your information about the Doctor is outdated. And if you hurt me, I won’t tell you anything. In fact, I don’t know that I’ll tell you anything even if you don’t hurt me.”

“Do you know,” the woman said, suddenly stopping her pacing, “who I am? What I stand for? How I get my strength? Yaz, my dear, I think you should be feeling very,  _ very _ afraid.”

She stalked out of Yaz’s line of vision, not waiting for a reply. “Bring someone in to clean the subject up,” she snapped. “She’s bleeding at the wrists and head. The head wound is bleeding profusely. I’m going to examine the other subject. He should be awake by now.”

“Wait—who else is in here?” Yaz called. “Who’s in here with me?”

A door slammed, and Yaz was left alone. An uncanny silence filled the room slowly. Yaz was feeling dizzier and dizzier. Was it because she had a head wound like the woman had said? She knew she’d smacked her head against the table involuntarily when the woman had been hurting her. Yaz didn’t even know how the woman had been hurting her. There hadn’t been any torture equipment or anything. Just a wrenching in her stomach, like blades spreading out through her insides.

She was shaken. She’d admit that much. The Doctor always saved the day. Yaz had never been hurt like this because of that fact. She did her best not to make a sound as she lay there, her wrists stinging and her head spinning, but she couldn’t help but let out a whimper.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Come get me out. Please, Doctor. I need you.”

 

————

 

The room was dark. Not pitch black, but certainly too dark to see any more than just the vague outlines of shapes. If Ryan had been a kid, he would have seen monsters in the shadows.

Now he was older. He didn’t see monsters in the shadows anymore. At least, he pretended not to. He knew it was just an overactive imagination. Still didn’t make it any easier. He was too embarrassed to tell anyone that he still used a night light. Nan had known. No one else. Although the TARDIS seemed to know, because his room onboard the ship was always lit with a soft, glowing light, even after he turned the main lights off. It was nice, but it kind of creeped him out. It was weird that a spaceship knew things like that.

But now there were no night lights. Just vague shadows and outlines in the dark. His mind effortlessly booted up his imagination, and suddenly he was seeing monsters and instruments of torture everywhere.

“Just your imagination, just your imagination,” he muttered to himself. He tried to think of something that would take his mind off of his surroundings.

While the Doctor and Gramps had run away, Ryan had tripped trying to kick the leg out from under the guard holding him. It was one of those coordination things that he struggled with. Stupid dyspraxia. And then the guards had swarmed on him, keeping him from getting away. He wondered why they hadn’t chased after the others. Probably too far away already. But they’d tackled him in a massive dogpile and then knocked him out, just like the one had knocked out Yaz. When he woke up, it wasn’t actually waking up. It was more like waking up in a dream, a dream where you’re mostly in control but do some things without being able to stop them. He’d escaped from the room in his dream, but then he’d just sort of sat down and fallen asleep. As soon as he’d fallen asleep, he woke up in this dark room.

It definitely scared him. He didn’t know if he was actually awake, or if this was another weird dream. Everything seemed fake now, but that was probably because it was so dark.

And there was no sign of the Doctor. He didn’t know if she’d been recaptured, or if she and Gramps had made it safely back to the TARDIS, or what they were doing. He didn’t know how long he’d been knocked out, or how long the dream-thing took, or how long he’d been lying there in the dark. Maybe the Doctor was already saving the day.

Then again, maybe she was captured and killed. Could she be killed? Ryan wasn’t sure. She certainly seemed indestructible.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the lights turning on. He got a good glimpse of the room in front of him, then. It wasn’t a promising sign. Everything in the room looked like it was made of metal. There were knives, and there were things that looked like dentist’s tools, and there were some machines that he couldn’t figure out the purpose of. And he was studying to be a mechanic. Was it an actual torture chamber?

A door opened from behind him, and he craned his neck to try and see around. He couldn’t really move anything other than his head.

A woman walked into view. She seemed tall—maybe she was wearing heels underneath her black robes. Her hair was also black, except for the bangs, which were white. She smiled at him sweetly, revealing a mouth of straight, white teeth, except for one cracked tooth. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Hello, Ryan,” she said. Even her voice was sickly-sweet. “I see you’re awake now.”

Ryan nodded, not sure what he could say. He licked his lips nervously. “Are you gonna let me out?” He finally asked.

“Oh, no,” the woman said. Her tone was reassuring, but the words made his heart sink. “I wouldn’t dream of doing something like that. It’s dangerous out there.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that you’re keeping me safe, just shut up right now,” Ryan replied. “No one keeps someone safe by tying them up in a room with all of those knives and stuff. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, but I  _ am _ keeping you safe,” the woman replied. “They’ve caught Yaz. The Doctor is still out there, not safe. The air is slightly poisonous, you see.”

“What do you mean, they caught Yaz? Who did? Where is she?” Ryan asked. He struggled at his bonds, trying to sit up.

“Oh, my dear, don’t do that,” the woman cried. “Here. If you promise not to run off or do anything stupid, I’ll untie your wrists and let you sit up. Would that be better?”

“Fine. As long as you tell me what’s going on.”

“I can do better than tell you,” the woman said, untying his wrists. “I can show you. See that black thing over there? That’s a screen hacked into the security cameras in the goddess’s palace. I had it tuned into Yaz’s room. I’m afraid it’s bad.”

“So you’re like, a good guy?” Ryan asked hesitantly. “You’re on our side?”

The woman nodded, her eyes wide. “Oh, yes. The goddess has really ruined things here. But I’m in hiding, down here in her dungeons. That’s why I tied you up. I didn’t want you getting out and alerting her to our presence.” She picked up what looked like a remote from the table with the knives. “Here, I’ll turn on the screen so you can see Yaz. And then you’ll be able to see how bad it is.” She turned to Ryan once more. “But I need you to help me get rid of the goddess. You’re friends with the Doctor. You can help me. You can tell me about the Doctor.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ryan said quickly. “Anything to help.”

The woman pushed a button, and the screen came to life, crackling and hissing. The picture was fuzzy, but it was definitely Yaz. Her hair was matted and blood dripped down from the sides of the table. It looked like she was crying. Ryan watched, horrified.

“Now Ryan,” said the woman. “Tell me about the Doctor.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update yesterday and forgot, I’m sorry! Here’s chapter 5, a day late.  
> Also, thanks for all the feedback on the most recent chapter! I felt a little nervous posting it, since, you know, Yaz gets....hurt.

Graham was getting impatient. They’d been hiding out in the TARDIS for two days while the Doctor worked on “getting some things together.” She was being very cryptic with him, refusing to explain herself, and barely even explaining what she thought was going on. She was sequestering herself in one of the TARDIS libraries, where Graham knew there was a terminal for the TARDIS data banks. Why she didn’t just stay in the console room to access the data banks, he’d never understand. It felt like she was trying to hide everything from him, and he didn’t appreciate that. Meanwhile, while they were wasting time in the TARDIS, Ryan and Yaz were off, captured by whoever was in charge on this planet.

    He ended up spending most of his time in his room onboard the TARDIS. It was a nice room, and the TARDIS had kindly included trinkets that it thought he would enjoy. At least, that’s what the Doctor said. That’s why there were photos of Ryan, Grace, and his deceased first wife, Melinda, hanging on the walls.

    It kind of scared him, how the TARDIS somehow knew about Melinda. Grace had known about her, and that was it. Ryan didn’t know. All these years later, and he still didn’t like talking about her. And certainly not Yaz or the Doctor. He still didn’t know them all that well.

    Well. He knew them fairly well. He’d seen them in trying circumstances, all right. But they weren’t family. By his reckoning, they’d been travelling together for about six months. Sure, they’d all been living on the TARDIS together, and sure, they’d been the only constant people in each other’s lives for six months, but there was something about the Doctor that Graham didn’t trust. She was too… nice.

    Graham _liked_ nice. But with the Doctor, it felt… artificial. He thought that she was really and truly a good person, but he knew first and foremost that good doesn’t always mean nice. When they’d taken down that Dalek, for instance, they had been doing the right thing. They had been doing something good. But killing wasn’t nice, even if that Dalek was a murderous alien psychopath.

    And anyway, the Doctor was too rude for him to seriously believe she was all niceness and smiles. Graham didn’t like Aaron, Ryan’s dad. But while he had been rude to Aaron, he hadn’t said—multiple times, no less!—that Aaron was a horrible father, even though it was true. Too bloody British, he supposed. Have to be polite. But the Doctor hadn’t bothered. Right away, she’d been rude to him. Had Aaron deserved it? Yeah, Graham would argue that he did. Was it still rude? Definitely.

    But at any given moment, the Doctor tried to act nice. It scared Graham. He knew she was being fake about the whole thing. He didn’t want to see what would happen when that changed. Sometimes he wondered if she was so silent about her past because she didn’t want to scare them off.

    The door to his room opened and the Doctor bounced in, startling Graham from his thoughts. Her hair was wet, and Graham’s first thought was that she’d taken a shower or something, but then he saw that her clothes were also dripping. “Hi, Graham!” She said cheerily, not seeming to notice how wet she was.

    “Hi,” Graham replied, setting down his glass of water on the nightstand. “What happened to you? You’re like a drowned rat.”

    She looked down at her clothes and shook her arms a few times, water droplets spraying onto the floor from her sleeves. They darkened the floor for a moment, and then the TARDIS absorbed them. “I accidentally walked into the pool. I guess I misplaced it awhile back. Put it in the library. Don’t know why. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

    Graham raised his eyebrows.

    “Oh, but that wasn’t what I was here to tell you,” the Doctor said. “Sorry.” She grinned at him apologetically. “I was here to tell you that I’m done doing my research. We can head out to search for Ryan and Yaz—and find out who this goddess is—anytime now. Whenever you’re ready.”

    “Wait a moment,” Graham said quickly. “We’re not doing anything until you tell me what’s going on.”

    “There’s no time, you’ll just have to trust me,” the Doctor said. “You can trust me, right? We’re a team.”

    “I want to say yes, but I can’t,” Graham stated flatly. “Ryan and Yaz are in danger and we’ve done nothing but sit on our bums for two days. I need you to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”

    The Doctor sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. A damp patch began seeping onto the quilt. “What do you need to know?”

    “Uh,” said Graham. “You’re actually going to tell me?”

    “Of course I am,” the Doctor replied. “You’re one of my best friends. What do you want to know?”

    “I dunno,” Graham admitted. “Everything useful?”

    The Doctor nodded using her whole body, making the mattress move underneath her. “Alright. Everything useful. Hmm. Where to start?”

    “Well, what was it like last time you came? What are the people who live here like normally? That sort of thing.”

    “Are you sure?” The Doctor asked. “It’s a bit of an infodump. And you don’t want to know what I did last time I was here. I mean. It was a long time ago.”

    “For you, maybe,” Graham retorted. “But that other bloke, Mekken, he knew you, so it can’t have been that long.”

    The Doctor sighed again. “Fine. I came here a long time ago for the Celestial Family Art Convention. The entire planet showed up, and then billions from around the universe. It’s popular with time travellers because it only happened once. I was curious as to why, I travelled there with my friend who was travelling with me at the time-”

    “The penguin you were talking about?”

    She nodded. “Yeah. So we went, got to see the most beautiful art the universe has ever produced, and learned that some, uh—friends of mine, I suppose—well, not really friends—a relative of mine who is, as far as I know, dead now—was sabotaging it because it was upstaging his art collection. Or something like that. Anyway. So we fixed it, saved the day, and left.

    “The thing about Faurels is that they’re psychically more enhanced than a human. Very powerful empaths. You know how people say they put a little of themselves in their art?”

    Graham nodded.

    “Here on Faure, that literally happens. Bits of their mind—their soul—are put in their art. It’s part of why everything is so beautiful. The Faurels are lovely, friendly, peaceable people. It’s in their nature. So the art they create is equally lovely, just because it’s got some of its creator in it.”

    “Like Voldemort from Harry Potter? Horcruxes and all that?”

    The Doctor shook her head emphatically. “No, nothing like that! It’s not immortality. The art just reflects the artist, quite literally. It’s really amazing, but if the art is destroyed, that causes psychic damage on the artist. If enough of their art is destroyed, it can make them go insane.”

    “And all that art was destroyed, wasn’t it?” Graham asked.

    “Yes, that’s what’s so terrible,” the Doctor said. “All the citizens of Faure are artists. That’s what this planet is devoted to. The First Artists—the founders of their society—are revered almost as gods.”

    “And one of their gods has come back? Raised from the dead?” Graham guessed.

    “I doubt it,” said the Doctor flatly. “No, I would guess that an alien species has come to the planet, one with truly phenomenal mental abilities. Perhaps they were experimented on, to open their synapses and unleash latent mental powers. It probably would have driven them insane. And they have, I would guess, escaped and are now here on the planet posing as a goddess. Which is odd, because the First Artists were male. Why would a goddess have come?”

    “You’re the one with all the information, Doc,” Graham replied. “Now could you get off my bed? You’re getting it all wet.”

    “Right. Sorry.” The Doctor stood up quickly. “Anyway, I was trying to find a race that could have that kind of mental ability. You know, all of those ‘tele’ powers. Telepaths, telekinetics, that kind of thing. And I found one.”

    Graham raised his eyebrows. “And?”

    “They’re called the Berelli,” said the Doctor. “One of two rational species on the planet Taramon. The Berelli conquered the Taramoni and evolved to have truly phenomenal mental abilities. It would be perfectly within a Berellian’s power to cut off all oxygen for a few seconds or cause earthquakes. And it would explain what I was feeling when we were out there!”

    “You’ll have to slow down again, Doc,” Graham said. “What were you feeling out there?”

    “A, a, a force,” the Doctor replied, putting her hands up to her head as if mimicking what it felt like. “Pressing down on my brain. Like someone was trying to get in. I had my suspicions, of course, having felt it. But I’m convinced that I’ve got the right species. Because of their advanced abilities, the Berelli are at a greater danger of developing god complexes. The need to be worshipped. It all makes sense!”

    “If you say so.”

    The color suddenly drained from the Doctor’s face. She grabbed Graham’s shoulders. “The TARDIS!”

    “What about the TARDIS?” Graham asked hesitantly.

    “She’s in danger. She’s been protecting me this whole time from the Bellerian on this planet, but—oh, no. Stupid Doctor! Stupid, _stupid_ ! If the Berellian can breach her defenses, the TARDIS could be destroyed, she could be hurt, she could be used for very bad purposes. And anyway, granting a mad Berellian with a god complex access to a dimensionally transcendental time and space machine would be the worst thing I could ever do, ever. Oh, I’m so _stupid!_ ”

    “You didn’t know,” Graham started to say, but the Doctor waved her hand at him and he shut up.

    “We need to take care of this matter right now. Once and for all. Before the Bellerian gets to the TARDIS.”

    The lights in Graham’s room dimmed to a greenish color, as if the TARDIS herself was agreeing with the Doctor. Graham couldn’t really blame the TARDIS. Self-preservation.

    “And the best way to do that would be to… what?” Graham asked. “Because if it doesn’t involve finding Ryan and Yaz, then I’m not in favor of it.”

    “Of course we’re going to find them, Graham,” the Doctor replied, almost angrily. “But can’t you see? The TARDIS is more important than anything else. We need to keep her safe above all else.”

    “Now look here,” Graham exclaimed, raising a threatening finger at the Doctor. “If you’re going to go and tell me that my grandson’s life is less important than _anything_ , you need to have a chat with yourself about your priorities. You’re the one calling us your family all the time. Start acting on it.”

    All at once, the Doctor deflated, her shoulders sagging. Graham thought he saw a tear in her eye, and almost began regretting his words. “I’m… sorry,” the Doctor finally said. “It’s hard to prioritize. And the TARDIS has been my family for thousands of years now. I’m very old, Graham. And my only constant companion through all of it has been my TARDIS.”

    Graham kept forgetting that the Doctor was actually an ancient alien from some outer space planet. She looked and sounded so normal. Except for when she was spouting technobabble. He tried to give her a gentle, understanding look. He thought he was pretty good at them, but Ryan never appreciated it. “Look, we’ll keep your TARDIS safe, Doc. But we can’t do that effectively unless we find Ryan and Yaz. We’re a team, remember? We’ll help you.”

    The Doctor smiled shakily. “Thanks.”

    And that was when the floor started shaking.

    Graham and the Doctor ran, stumbling, out into the console room. The central column was moving up and down slowly, the groaning more like a screeching.

    “I think the Bellerian discovered the TARDIS!” The Doctor called to Graham. “I think they’ve breached some of the defenses, essentially driving it wherever they want.”

    ”Is it making that awful noise because the TARDIS doesn’t like it, or what?” Graham yelled back.

    “Very probably,” the Doctor shouted.

    The screeching died down. The shaking stopped. The TARDIS was eerily silent.

    “Well?” Said the Doctor. “Shall we see what’s out there?”


	6. Chapter 6

    Now that he’d told the woman (who refused to give her name) about the Doctor and Graham, Ryan was beginning to regret it a little bit. He liked to think he was stoic and perfectly reasonable at all times, but to be honest, he had been pretty freaked out by everything that had happened since they’d arrived on Faure, and the woman had seemed truthful.

    Of course, now that her behavior was getting suspicious, he realized that he shouldn’t have trusted her implicitly like that. Why had he trusted her like that? He usually had trust issues. He blamed his dad. And the fact that his mum and nan had both died.

    Now he trusted three people in the world, and that was about it. Graham, the Doctor, and Yaz, in that order. The Doctor had been in front of Graham for a little while, but now Ryan really did view him as a grandfather. Blood ties didn’t really mean anything, did they? He still wasn’t on great terms with his dad, who was related to him by blood. But he trusted three people who weren’t related to him with his life.

    And he’d gone and trusted this strange woman. It probably was because she’d been nice. But lots of bad guys can act nice. His own dad was acting pretty nice at New Year’s, but he hadn’t yet apologized. Classic villains were always very well-mannered.

    But there was part of Ryan that was still uncertain. Was the woman good? Was she bad? He just didn’t know. She had all of these reasons for not letting him leave the room he’d woken up in. She’d been able to explain that odd dream he’d had. And when she was in the room, she let him check up on Yaz. She probably would keep the tv on if he asked, but he figured it would be creepy if he were watching Yaz at all times.

    He just needed to get out. He needed to see the sky, feel fresh air on his face. He knew the air outside wasn’t all that fresh, but he still needed a change of scene. He was utterly useless here, in this room. It was no better than a cell. Sure, the lady was able to sneak him food, and sure, it was better than the state poor Yaz was in, but he couldn’t stand feeling useless. All he had was a deck of cards that had been in his jacket pocket. He’d played more games of solitaire in that room than he had in his entire life.

    The woman came back as he was shuffling the deck. “Hello, Ryan,” she said warmly. “Playing cards again?”

    “I don’t know what else I’d be doing,” Ryan replied sullenly. He felt at his jacket pocket discreetly; he’d hidden one of the sharp metal things that looked like a dental tool from Hell just a few minutes before she’d walked in.

    The woman pulled a fake pout; she seemed to be in a very good mood. “Come now, don’t be like that,” she cried, her voice matching her pout.

    “I thought you were the one who said we had to keep our voices down,” Ryan reminded her, cutting off her next words. “You’re the one who’s always apparently in danger, I thought you’d remember that better.”

    She gave a little laugh. “Oh, even the best fugitives forget things sometimes,” she replied. “Now-”

    But Ryan was on his feet now, the metal thing pulled from his pocket, held at the woman’s throat. “Get me out of here,” he said. He had the advantage of height over her, and he had a weapon.

    The woman gasped involuntarily, flinching away from the hooked instrument. She watched Ryan through half-closed eyes, taking quick, shallow breaths. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Ryan. You don’t want to.”

    “You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do,” he snapped. “I need to get back to the town square. That’s where I’ll find the Doctor and my granddad.”

    “You wouldn’t hurt me because the Doctor would be very unhappy with you,” the woman replied.

    “What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her,” Ryan said, pushing the hook into the skin of her neck with a little more pressure.

    The woman closed her eyes and went very pale. Ryan wondered if he’d gone too far, but didn’t make a move either way. He needed to get back to the TARDIS. For a moment, he got confused: why was he threatening this woman, who had been hiding him and keeping him safe? What good would that do? Why was he feeling so desperate? He couldn’t help Yaz if he found the Doctor and Graham, and he couldn’t go on knowing that she was being hurt like that.

    But those thoughts left him in half a moment, before he even had time to process them fully, and he continued to hold the hooked blade at the woman’s throat.

    And then the woman smiled. She was still very pale, still breathing very hard, but the smile spread slowly across her face. If Ryan hadn’t been almost cutting the skin on her neck, she probably would have started laughing.

    “What’s so funny?” Ryan asked harshly. “I’ll cut your throat, I’ll do it.”

    “No, you won’t,” the woman replied, still smiling. “You wouldn’t do it anyway, but I can give you many reasons to let me live, Ryan.”

    “Well? What are they?”

    “You were right,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I wasn’t being honest with you. I needed your information, though. I didn’t even know the Doctor had regenerated into a woman! How very outdated of me.”

    “I’m still waiting for you to explain yourself,” Ryan said.

    “Patience is a virtue that you seem to lack,” she replied sharply. “Put the blade down, and then we’ll talk.”

    Ryan didn’t answer. After a moment, he lowered his hand.

    “Now give it to me,” she said, holding out her hand.

    He dropped it, and it clattered on the floor. “I won’t give it to you,” he responded. “You can get it yourself.” He sat down on the table, the one he had been strapped to when he’d first woken up. “Now what? Who are you? What have you been doing? Why were you lying to me?”

    She sighed and bent down to retrieve the instrument. “I don’t have a name, not as you would know names,” she said. “It’s very awkward when I meet new people. That’s why I’m still not going to tell you my name, Ryan, dear. As for why you shouldn’t kill me, well. If you kill me, I kill Yaz. Is that clear?”

    Ryan shook his head, almost apologetically. “Not really. If you’re dead, you can’t kill Yaz.”

    “Yes I can,” she argued. “Have you never heard of an empathic link?”

    Ryan shook his head again.

    “Where does the Doctor find you people these days? I can’t remember a time her companions have ever been this stupid. Does she just need to show off all the time? Is that why she brings you with?” The woman pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what, don’t even answer. I don’t think I’m quite in the mood to hear your half-hearted defense of an alien you clearly don’t know all that well.”

    “So what is an empathic link?” Ryan asked. He thought he was doing a pretty good job keeping his temper under control. Nan would be proud of him for not getting angry yet, and that thought helped keep him calm.

    “It’s when two people are connected empathically,” the woman explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Except I am remarkably gifted in that area and have almost complete control over everything your darling Yaz feels. Basically, if I die, she dies with me.”

    “Do you have the ability to kill her now?” Ryan asked, now more than a little bit worried.

    The woman shrugged. “Depends. I can’t kill her via an empathic link, since I myself have never felt death. But I have felt plenty of pain in my lives, and so I can inflict her with all kinds of lovely pain. It makes me quite giddy. I could break off the empathic link and just kill her outright, though, if she made me really angry.”

    “If Yaz died while the empathic link—or whatever it is—was still a thing, would it kill you?”

    She gave him a very long, level look. “No. I would be able to break off the link before she actually died. I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

    “How’s that work, then?” Ryan said. “Wouldn’t you feel the pain Yaz is feeling?”

    “Are you really that slow?” The woman asked. “No, because I’m the one inflicting that pain on her. And anyway, did you hear nothing about how I have total control over the link? Did I not mention that I am a goddess?”

    There was a long moment of silence.

    “Uh, no,” Ryan finally said. “I don’t think you did. I’d have remembered that.”

    The woman groaned, covering her face with her hands. When she took them away, her face was one of total, carefully controlled composure. “I,” she said, in an equally controlled voice, “am a goddess. The only one to make an appearance on this planet. My sisters are elsewhere in the universe, finding their own planets to govern.”

    “What, so there are more like you? More crazy women out there, obsessed with hurting people?”

    “Ryan,” the woman said.

    “Yeah?”

    “You’re from Earth, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Most of the Doctor’s companions come from Earth. And if you’re from Earth, then you’re aware of a number of polytheistic religions, are you not?”

    “What, like Greek mythology or something?” Ryan asked.

    “Yes, like Greek mythology. Do you know much about it?”

    “Nah,” he replied. “I read Percy Jackson when I was a kid, but I don’t remember it very well. Don’t really like fantasy.”

    “Do you remember some of the gods?” The woman asked. Her voice was full of strained patience.

    “Sort of,” Ryan mumbled. “Zeus and Hades and Apollo and stuff.”

    “And were they all the same?”

    “I don’t really remember, alright?” Ryan said, annoyed. “I don’t think so? Wasn’t Zeus the sky guy? Wait, wasn’t Apollo also the sky guy? I don’t remember. Hades was different, though, wasn’t he? He was the bad guy in the Hercules movie. He was in charge of the dead people.”

    “So there were Zeus and Apollo, who were in charge of the sky,” the woman said. “And then there was Hades, who had a completely different role. Is that right?”

    “Yeah, I think so,” Ryan replied.

    “We’re both agreed that the different gods were gods of different things?” The woman said. Her voice was sweet now.

    “Yeah?”

    “Then wouldn’t you agree that it would make sense that I and my sisters are not the same in any way, shape, or form, other than the fact that we are all goddesses?”

    Ryan was a little taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. She had been sweet, but in a split second she was intense, angry, terrifying. Like some hidden creature from beyond Ryan’s comprehension had suddenly reared its ugly head and let him know it existed. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed quickly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

    And then she was back to normal. Smiling. It was chilling. “I’m glad you understand, my dear,” she told him. “Now. Ryan. I think it’s time for you to come see the rest of my… operations.”

    “Why would a goddess need operations?” Ryan muttered to himself as she led him out of the room.

    “A goddess must always need operations,” she replied. Ryan made a mental note to think those things instead of say them. “I have great plans for this world, Ryan. Plans to benefit the entire planet, the entire solar system, the whole Celestial Family. Actually, it would probably be for the best of the Spiral Politic.”

    “The what?”

    She rolled her eyes again. “Are you honestly that stupid or do you have to try really hard?”

    “Look,” said Ryan, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his voice. “I’ve always been told that if you don’t know something, to ask about it. ‘No one will make fun of you.’ That sort of thing? And I’m no expert on anything about space. Alright? Now stop making fun of me and actually explain some things, maybe?”

    “I will explain as much or as little as I want,” the woman replied. She seemed more amused by his outburst than annoyed. Perhaps that was just as well. Ryan was torn between wanting to stay safe and wanting to be taken seriously. “But first,” she added, “let me take you on a little tour. I really do want you to be reunited with your darling Yaz.”

    She led him away, through the corridors of her dungeons, doors to cells lining the walls. Ryan tried not to shiver at the thought of Yaz in one of those rooms, hurting, bleeding, alone. He shivered anyway, following a woman who he now knew was a bad guy, trusting her to keep him safe.


	7. Chapter 7

They were alone.

The TARDIS had taken them to the middle of nowhere, basically. At least, that’s what Graham would have said. The gray landscape was as gloomy, cold, and depressing as it had been in the town square, only now there were fewer buildings.

The Doctor, however, took one look at the flat, bare fields that seemed to stretch on for eternity, and said, “You know, this reminds me of Nebraska at the end of November. Or maybe in mid-February.”

“When did  _ you _ go to Nebraska, Doc?” Graham asked, blinking in the cold and hugging himself.

“Oh, you know. Sometime.” The Doctor was vague as ever. “It doesn’t really matter, Graham. I’m not planning on going back anytime soon. It’s so… flat.”

“Are we in Nebraska, then?” Graham asked.

The Doctor shook her head. She peered around, looking at their surroundings with an intense look of concentration scrunching up her face. “We haven’t moved from the planet. We’re—oh, about two day’s walk from Pele, I think. Why did the TARDIS move us here?”

“You’re the expert,” Graham replied. “I thought you said that goddess lady—the Berelli, or whatever.”

“Berellian,” the Doctor corrected. “Berelli is the plural. And that’s what I thought. But now I’m wondering—“ And then she dashed back into the TARDIS. Graham followed, and found her at the TARDIS console, peering over a panel of controls.

“Now what’re you doing?” Graham asked. He crossed his arms expectantly, trying to show the Doctor that he didn’t want to be messed with. He didn’t know why, but people never seemed to take his arms-crossing seriously. He thought it made him look much more serious. He also put on a grumpy face, but that was more because he was grumpy.

“Don’t pout, Graham,” the Doctor said, still looking over the controls. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Graham immediately uncrossed his arms, opening his mouth to protest indignantly.

Before he could, the Doctor answered his question. “It was the HADS!” She called over to him. “The HADS activated, that’s why we moved.”

“And in English?”

She walked over to him, her hands in front of her like she was holding something, the way they always were when she was trying to explain something. “The Hostile Action Displacement System,” she said, pronouncing each word as if it began with a capital letter. The TARDIS moves itself when it senses danger. I can also active it if I sense danger, but I try not to. I don’t like using it. I’d much rather sort out the danger.” She looked back at the console. “I can’t imagine we’re actually out of the danger the TARDIS is sensing.”

As if on cue, the TARDIS started groaning again and the room began to shake. The Doctor fell over onto the console, holding on as if for dear life. Graham fell against one of the beams around it. Sparks flew from the console.

“What’s—going—on—?” Graham shouted to the Doctor, trying to hear himself over the noise.

“I already told you!” The Doctor shouted back. “It’s the HADS!”

The noise died down, the room stopped shaking. “You need to get a mechanic in to look at this thing, Doc,” Graham told her.

“Nah,” the Doctor said. “That’s no fun. Let me just-” she pushed some buttons, flipped a few switches, and hit something with her fist. “Ow!” She exclaimed, grabbing her fist with her other hand and hopping up and down a little bit. “I used to have a hammer for that, I wonder where I put it-”

“Doc?” Graham interrupted her rambling. “I hate to sound stupid, but what are you doing now?”

“I disabled the HADS,” the Doctor replied, putting her fist up to her mouth and sucking on it.

Graham tried not to roll his eyes and cross his arms. He really did. But he ended up doing it anyway. “Is disabling it really a good idea?” He asked.

The Doctor nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah,” she said, taking her fist away from her mouth. “I don’t want to drain the TARDIS. And anyway, sometimes it goes too far away for us to find it easily. Besides, there’s not any outright threat to the external hull. I think the TARDIS is getting a little confused.” She patted the console warmly. “She’s probably sensing the danger from the Berellian and is reading it as a physical attack. She wants to get away as fast as possible.”

“And you’re, what, locking her up?” Graham guessed.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” the Doctor said quickly. “But if that helps you understand it, I suppose so.”

Graham didn’t press the matter. He wasn’t sure if the Doctor’s actions were right, morally speaking, because he still wasn’t sure quite what the TARDIS was. The Doctor talked about it (and to it) like it was alive, more than just a machine. Almost like the two were married. And sometimes things happened that made the TARDIS seem like it was more than a machine. The fact that the TARDIS had managed to generate photos of his family, or how it always managed to clean up messes on the floor (and the occasional sock, if you accidentally left it there). And, of course, the fact that the Doctor seemed to be unable to fly the TARDIS half the time made it seem like the ship was alive. Alive and in control.

Was it right, then, to take away the ship’s freedom? Graham thought that it was likely a bad thing. Morally reprehensible. Of course, if he argued it, the Doctor would probably spout some technobabble and talk about how much she loved the TARDIS, and he couldn’t compete with technobabble.

So he stayed quiet, following the Doctor slowly through the field, shivering. He’d once more forgotten to grab another layer from the TARDIS, and it was cold out.

As they walked, the Doctor sniffed loudly, stuck her tongue out, and did a number of other odd things. Graham was used to those kinds of things by now. He gave her a look that was mildly confused and annoyed, because it had become a habit by now. If he did that, the Doctor usually explained herself. Eventually.

Sure enough, she turned around so that she was facing him and, walking backwards, began to talk. “I was just checking the air quality,” the Doctor said. “Something’s been off the entire time we’ve been outside, and I didn’t think until now to check anything. Of course, last time we were outside we were being marched to an undisclosed location by masked guards, so I kind of had other things on my mind, but-”

“Stay focused, Doc,” Graham interrupted.

“Right. Sorry. As I was saying. Checking the air quality.”

“And how is it?” Graham asked.

The Doctor hesitated before answering the question. “Poisonous,” she finally said, her voice flat.

“Great,” Graham replied. “So how soon will it be before I keel over and die?”

“I don’t know, alright?” The Doctor snapped. Graham was surprised to hear the irritation in her voice. The Doctor didn’t really do irritation. Not with him and Ryan and Yaz, at least. “You’re human. I’m Time Lord. We’re different species. I have two hearts, a lower body temperature, the ability to regenerate, and a respiratory bypass system. You have none of those things. I can survive longer than you can, thanks to the respiratory bypass, but I have no idea how much longer. Just because we travel together doesn’t mean I know everything about humans.”

Graham crossed his arms. “Then how long can you survive?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the aggression out of his voice.

The Doctor shrugged. “If I’m outside the whole time, maybe two weeks. Give or take a few days.”

“Maybe I should stay in the TARDIS, then,” Graham suggested. “Or we could go back to the TARDIS and find, I don’t know, gas masks or something.”

The Doctor shook her head emphatically, her blonde hair swinging. “No. No gas masks. I don’t like them. They’re creepy, and I’d find it impossible not to make inside jokes with myself that would just get you annoyed.”

Graham stared.

“Besides,” the Doctor continued, “this way, we have a deadline. Working under pressure. I’m good at working under pressure, usually.”

“Fantastic,” Graham said. He was surprised at how sulky his voice sounded. “We find Ryan and Yaz and promptly die from the poisonous air, with no safe way back to the TARDIS.”

“I’ll admit there are a few holes,” the Doctor conceded. “But you’re missing the most important thing.”

“Which is?”

The Doctor tapped the side of her nose. “I have a plan.”

“Would you mind maybe letting me in on the plan?” Graham asked. He tried to cross his arms, then realized that he hadn’t uncrossed them from before. He uncrossed them, and then crossed them again, with an added “Hmmph,” so that the Doctor would know he was annoyed.

“It’s a work in progress, Graham, thank you very much,” the Doctor replied, a touch defensive. “It’s less a plan with clear, well-thought-out points and backup plans, and more an I’ll-deal-with-the-next-steps-when-we-get-to-them plan.”

“You’re just making it up as you go along!” Graham exclaimed, realizing too late that he was quoting Monty Python.

“Yes, but I’ve been told that I do it with style,” the Doctor said. “Come on, Graham,” she added. “Uncross your arms. I’d tell you to take a deep breath, but under the circumstances…”

“Why?” Graham asked.

“Can’t you feel it?” The Doctor replied. “Pushing up against your brain, trying to get in? Eating away your soul?”

“No?”

“Oh.” The Doctor paused for a moment, as if confused about where she was going. “Well, I can. And I think it’s affecting you, too. Probably everyone on this planet. Like I said back in the TARDIS, the Berelli have incredibly powerful psychic powers. I mean, the most powerful in the known universe. Remnants of a time gone by, a history written over, most likely. The one here, posing as a goddess—well, I think she’s got some kind of telepathic, or maybe empathic, or maybe just some sort of psychic field over the planet. Manipulating the people on this planet, making them do things they might never have considered in the first place. That’s why we’ve been getting angry at each other, Graham. I bet it’s also affecting Ryan and Yaz—wherever they are. Making them act strangely. They probably are confused by their actions. Feeling like they have no control.”

“Probably not,” Graham said without thinking.

“Why not?” The Doctor asked, her face creasing with worry.

Graham paused. “I can’t tell you,” he finally said.

“Why not?” The Doctor asked again.

“Because you’ll get upset and I don’t want you to get upset,” Graham said. “You said we’ve been getting angry at each other because of some weird mystical force. Well, I don’t want to get you upset at me while that’s going on.”

“I won’t,” the Doctor said quickly. “I promise I won’t. Why wouldn’t they be confused by their actions or feel like they have no control? I need to know. Maybe this has been going on for a long time, maybe they’ve been exposed to something bad while traveling with me, I need to know. I need to help them.”

“Well,” said Graham uncomfortably. “It’s because—because that’s what happens when we travel with you, Doc.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some more detail about Yaz’s injuries, and also she gets hurt nastily but it’s offscreen, so to speak. I’m really really sorry and I feel horrible about hurting her some more, hopefully she won’t be tortured again. This chapter is kind of bleak.

    Yaz had endured several visits from her tormentor since that first one. The woman had stopped asking about the Doctor after the first visit, which Yaz counted as a small victory, but that sort of victory really doesn’t do much good against the things the woman had been putting her in.

    At this point, Yaz’s life was constant pain. She could feel it in her bruised skin, in the cuts that never quite healed over before opening again, in her constantly-pounding head. She had been faithful to the Doctor, certain that her friend would save the day before anything worse happened. After that first session with the woman, she had managed to convince herself that the Doctor would come before the second. By the time the woman visited her for the seventh time, Yaz had stopped that. There was no use getting her hopes up for something that was growing increasingly unlikely.

    Sometimes, when the time between visits seemed longer, long enough for some of her cuts to scab over and begin to itch, Yaz wondered why the Doctor hadn’t used the TARDIS to go back in time and rescue her before any of this… torture even started. The Doctor probably had an answer for that, probably something along the lines of “it would have done irreparable damage to the Web of Time,” but all it meant to Yaz was that she was stuck, trapped in her own personal hell.

    The thing was, Yaz couldn’t even get used to it. If there had been any semblance of order or schedule to any of it, she could have endured. But the visits had wildly differing time frames—the first visit was only a few minutes, but on one of the later visits, the woman had spent over an hour finding new ways to drive Yaz closer to insanity from the pain. She almost seemed to get high off of it. And the time between visits was wildly different. And sometimes, the woman would send people in to clean up Yaz’s bleeding. Sometimes, she just left her there. Yaz was more than a little surprised that she hadn’t contracted some kind of infection from it yet, but even that surprise was weary, agonizing.

    Yaz didn’t have time to contemplate anything. She didn’t have time to hope for anything. She didn’t have time for anything, full stop. The terror that spread through her every time the woman came to visit spread through her like poison. Even the sound of the door opening was enough to reduce her to shaking violently.

    She hated it.

    She hated the power it gave the woman over her. She hated the fact that she, a normal, fully-functioning, capable person was unable to cope with the absolute fear that pervaded every part of her being at the mere thought of a person. She had no idea what to do, how to handle things, how to get back in control of the situation. Of course, she knew well enough that she’d never been in control to begin with. Not with anything.

    Yaz, in her extreme helplessness, found that being helpless wasn’t something unusual to her. That bothered her a little bit. It would have bothered her more had she been in less pain. Still she clung to those thoughts about helplessness, trying to focus on something, anything, that might take her mind off the pain.   

    Her conclusions came to this: she had been helpless as a child, but that’s normal. Little kids need a lot of help, they’re not very independent. They like to think they are, but they’re really not. As she’d gotten a little bit older, the freedom granted to her got a little bit bigger, but she still answered to her parents. Hell, she still lived with them (when she wasn’t traveling with the Doctor). And when she’d gotten a job as a police officer, she had been put on parking duty. She wanted to be in charge. Or at least given a few more responsibilities. But she was helpless in that respect too, stuck with petitioning other people for a promotion, or even just something a little more exciting.

    And now she was traveling with the Doctor. That gave her the greatest sense of freedom she’d ever had. But now she realized that it wasn’t freedom. She still listened to the Doctor, did what the Doctor said without questioning it. She was Yasmin Khan! She argued with everyone! So why didn’t she have a problem with taking orders from the Doctor? She and Ryan and Graham—they were like the Doctor’s little soldiers.

    The door opened, then, and Yaz forgot about everything. Please let it be the Doctor coming to rescue me, please let it be the Doctor coming to rescue me, please let it be the Doctor coming to rescue me. The thought repeated over and over in her head, like a prayer.

    But through her swollen eyelids, Yaz could see the blurry outline of the woman walking into her field of vision. The woman with the Cruella de Vil hair and black robes.

    “I’ve brought you a visitor, Yaz,” the woman said. Yaz could hear the smile in her voice.

    Yaz didn’t reply. To be honest, she didn’t think she could. Her voice was probably less than a croak by now.

    “I’ve brought you Ryan,” the woman continued. Yaz saw her gesture. “Come over here, Ryan. Don’t you want to visit your friend?”

    To Yaz’s horror, Ryan now came into view, standing next to the woman. Her sense of vision was too blurry to see the expression on his face.

    “Hi, Yaz,” he said. His voice sounded dull. Unhappy. Depressed? Not shocked. He hadn’t said “oh my God” or “what happened to you” or “oh my God what happened to you.”

    Yaz tried to smile. She could feel her dry lips cracking at the attempt. She wanted to speak to him, she really did. She wanted to do more than just speak to him. She wanted to hug him and cry on his shoulder. Which, to be honest, was a little unusual. Still, he was her friend, and she needed a friend.

    “Why isn’t she talking?” He asked in that same dull voice, presumably asking Cruella de Vil.

    “Yaz,” the woman said, responding to his question, “answer Ryan. He’ll feel very unhappy if you don’t.”

    “I’m already feeling very unhappy,” Ryan said. Yaz was almost relieved to hear the edge in his voice. It meant that he didn’t like the woman, either.

    “Don’t say things like that, Ryan,” the woman replied, her voice steely. “You know what I can do to her if you say things that upset me.”

    “Are you threatening me, then?” Ryan asked.

    “No,” she said. “I’m threatening _her_.” She pointed to Yaz. It was all very dramatic.

    “You’re threatening me by threatening Yaz,” Ryan said. “I know how it works. I don’t know why. You’ve got all the information you need.”

    This was news to Yaz. “ _What_?” She managed to croak.

    The woman laughed. “Yaz, dear, Ryan willingly volunteered all the information I needed, unlike you. He’s much more gullible.”

    Ryan opened his mouth, then shut it again. It would have been funny had the situation been a little less serious. When he opened it again, it was to say, “Can you leave us alone for a little bit? Please?”

    To Yaz’s surprise, the woman shrugged. She didn’t even do it with any theatrics, it was just a normal shrug. “It would be rude of me to disturb this… _touching_ reunion.” She walked back out of Yaz’s line of vision and, a moment later, she heard the door shut heavily.

    “Are you able to talk?” Ryan asked, coming closer to Yaz. Now that his face was closer, Yaz could see how worried he was. And was that disgust on his face?

    “Not really,” she managed to whisper. Her throat was so dry that she could barely manage even that.

    Ryan cast a glance around the room. “There’s some water over there, should I get it for you?”

    Yaz nodded, barely. Ryan ran off and came back a moment later with a jug. Clumsily, he raised it to Yaz’s lips and poured the water into her mouth. A good portion ran out down her face and neck.

    “Better?” He asked.

    “Ye...yeah,” Yaz said. Her voice was still rough and it still hurt to talk, but she could at least get words out without a croak. She figured that the screaming had done a number on her vocal chords. “What’s been going on, Ryan? How long has it been since we arrived?”

    “Dunno,” Ryan admitted. “The Doctor and Graham and I tried to escape from the guards. I didn’t make it. As far as I know, they’re back in the TARDIS. Safe.”

    “That woman is the goddess Mekken was talking about,” Yaz said. “That’s all I know. That, and she says she knows the Doctor.”

    “Yeah,” Ryan said. “I guessed that much. She told me at first that she was hiding from the goddess and that she’d rescued me. And then she was asking about the Doctor, saying that the Doctor could help, and—I told her about the Doctor and Graham.”

    “ _What?_ ”

    “I didn’t know she was bad until, like, twenty minutes ago, okay?” Ryan said, trying to defend himself. “Now I know it was stupid, but what was I supposed to think before?”

    Yaz sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

    “Listen,” said Ryan. “I think we need a plan.”

    “Yeah, no shit,” Yaz replied. “Look at how smart you are. Would you like a gold star now, or are you waiting until you get one for utterly betraying the rest of us?”

    “Look,” said Ryan, a note of desperation in his voice. “I know I messed up. I know it was really bad. But can that wait until after we’re somewhere safe? I don’t know how much time we have until she gets back.”

    “Welcome to my life,” Yaz muttered. “Listen,” she added, trying to act normal, like she wasn’t in pain so bad that she could barely see, “what we need is some way for you to get the layout of whatever building we’re in, then find a way to get me out and out of the building. The goddess seems to like you.”

    “Yeah, I didn’t ask for that,” Ryan interrupted.

    Yaz ignored him. “How much freedom d’you think she’d give you?”

    Ryan shrugged. “So far she hasn’t given me any. I told you, I just found out that she’s bad twenty minutes ago.”

    “And what about before then?”

    “She kept me shut up in the same room the entire time. Said that it wasn’t safe for me to go anywhere.”

    Yaz sighed. “You _do_ know how stupid you were to trust her, right?”

    “If I didn’t before, I think you’ve told me enough for ten people,” Ryan retorted. “And anyway, I don’t need _you_ telling me how stupid I am, that goddess has been doing it enough.”

    “Oh.” Yaz wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “Anyway, see what kind of freedom she’ll give you. It might not be much, but if you can come visit me and let me know, then we can start working on a backup plan.”

    “I’ll see if I can get her to let me visit you,” Ryan said. “Hopefully she’ll be okay with it.”

    “Yeah. Hopefully.”

    The door opened, and the woman walked back in. “Time’s up, Ryan,” she said cheerfully. “I’ve got a guard waiting to take you to your new room. You’ll get an actual bed, if you’re lucky.”

    “Oh,” said Ryan dully. “Great.”

    “I _could_ hurt you, if I really wanted to. Hurt you like I hurt Yaz,” the woman added helpfully. “Maybe I will if I get bored. Now go, or I’ll be _forced_ to hurt you. I don’t want to do that. Yet.”

    Ryan threw a worried glance at Yaz before doing as the woman said. When the door had been shut behind him, the woman turned to Yaz. There was still a slight smile on her face.

    “See what happens if you help me?” She asked Yaz. “Ryan was helpful, and he gets his own room, his own bed, plenty of food and water. If you had just helped me at first, that could have been you.”

    “I wouldn’t ever help you,” Yaz said. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know it’s bad.”

    “If you don’t know what I’m planning, how can you know it’s bad?” The woman asked. “I think it’s brilliant, personally. I’m spicing things up a little bit. The Faurels are such an _interesting_ race. But, I have to admit, Yaz—” she leaned in close “—you’re much more interesting right now. And,” she added, a smile brightening her face, “I think it’s time for some more… traditional punishments.” She pulled out a bright silver tool. It looked like something a dentist might use. She held it over Yaz, letting her get a good look. “Do you see this?” She asked.

    Yaz nodded.

    “Ryan gave it to me. He’s _ever_ so sweet that way.” She touched Yaz’s cheek with a cool hand. “I don’t _always_ use traditional methods,” she said. “There’s so much blood involved. _You’re_ getting special treatment.”

 

————

 

    As Ryan was led away by one of those helmeted guards, the same type that had knocked him out and taken him there, he heard a jagged scream come from behind him.

    The guard held him tight, preventing him from running back to that room, the prison cell where Yaz was being kept. Perhaps it was for the best. If Ryan had seen what was happening, he might have lost his temper and attacked the woman. And that would have killed his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long to update! I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to do just about anything not related to school or work.

“What do you  _ mean _ , that’s what happens when you travel with me?” The Doctor exclaimed. Her anger was getting the better of her, and she was all up in Graham’s face. She blamed the headache, the one that warned her that an alien force of immense psychic ability was trying to peer into her mind. It was making her do things she probably wouldn’t normally do.

“Look,” said Graham insistently, stubbornly. “We never know where we’re going, we never know what danger there’ll be, we never know what the  _ hell _ is going on at any time! You get used to it after awhile, sure, but it kind of renders you immune to feeling like you’ve lost your sense of control.”

As much as the Doctor hated to admit it, she suspected Graham was right. She loved the lifestyle; the very fact that she never knew what was going to happen next exhilarated her beyond belief. But for beings of less psychic ability, it could potentially be difficult to distinguish between the oddities of life with her, and an actual malevolent force manipulating events to the detriment of everyone else. But were humans really that slow? That stunted to psychic influence?

She didn’t respond to Graham’s statement in the end. It was beneath her, or something like that. The very idea that someone could confuse travelling with her and malevolent psychic manipulation was laughable at best. Graham was just unusually stupid, maybe. Unable to tell the difference. Yaz and Ryan would be different, she was sure. They would know that something odd was going on.

They continued walking, not speaking to each other. Perhaps that was for the best. They just seemed to be getting into arguments and fights when they talked. The Doctor suspected the Berellian influence, but she also realized that she and Graham had never been alone for any extended amount of time. Come to think of it, the Doctor hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with any of her new companions. She liked the feeling of a big, happy family.

But maybe the focus on the big, happy family had hindered the building up of trust between the group. The Doctor trusted Graham, Ryan, and Yaz as much as she trusted most humans. But she wouldn’t trust them if she had to leave them on their own to save the universe. Or a planet. Or something. They needed her guidance. They just didn’t understand the infinite cosmic potential of every action. How could they? They were  _ human _ .

Of course, she had trusted several of her human friends with saving the universe. Or a planet. Or something. But that had been different, hadn’t it? Those friends were smarter, somehow. She knew she could leave those friends on their own with a set of instructions, and they’d do their damnedest to follow them. She couldn’t say that about her new friends.

And that made the Doctor wonder just how much she trusted her newest friends. She liked to think that she trusted them. But did she really? She’d been ever so careful around them, not telling them about her past, not showing them anywhere she’d been to before. She’d wanted them to see the wonders of the universe, not the horrors. Come to that,  _ she _ wanted to see the wonders of the universe, not the horrors. But the TARDIS seemed intent on dragging them into the horrors of the universe.

There was nothing wrong with that. The Doctor liked saving the day. But she was starting to see flaws in her own morality. So she was changing. She was going to be a different sort of person. Better. Nicer. She wasn’t going to kill anyone, because killing was bad. It was that simple. She hated being confronted with those stupid moralistic conundrums—‘kill one person to save the universe’ scenarios. She just wouldn’t kill. It was that easy. She wouldn’t let people die while she was around. Simple.

She felt that she’d done a good job sticking to that, and that was why she was so scared. The old anger, the old sense of injustice had woken up when she first saw what had happened to the planet. What would happen if she began reverting, reverting back to some of her old behavior? The cosmic chess player. The destroyer of Gallifrey. The bow tie wearing murderer. Any of her past selves, really. The destruction could be unthinkable. Oh, she’d saved lives, certainly. But had she saved more than she’d destroyed? Actually, that wasn’t the big thing. The big thing was the fact she’d destroyed in the first place.

<> The force against her mind was distracted now, she could tell. Not quite as powerful. She let herself enjoy the brief respite from attack. She tried not to think what had happened to distract the Berellian.

“Uh, Doc?” Said Graham, jolting her from her thoughts. She’d forgotten about him. Was he still angry at her? Was he expecting her to apologize or something? She had trouble reading faces.

“What is it, Graham?” She replied, trying to keep her voice neutral, not annoyed or worried or anything.

“Are those people over there?” Graham asked, pointing off towards one of the fields. “By that big rock.”

“Boulder, more like,” said the Doctor. “And yes, I think they are. They’re waving at us, I think.”

”So?” Graham asked, looking at the Doctor expectantly.

“So what?”

“What are we going to do?” Graham clarified with an air of tired patience, like an adult talking to a particularly different four-year-old.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Doctor asked him.

“No, it is not,” Graham replied, still sounding tired.

“We’re going to go over by them and see what they want!” The Doctor exclaimed. “It’s only good manners at this point. Hello, over there!” She shouted, waving her arms energetically back at them. She began marching off in their direction, her energy renewed.

“Great,” Graham muttered. “Now they know we’ve seen them.” But he followed the Doctor, mainly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. And maybe they knew where there was some shelter.

 

—————

 

As they approached the small group of people (there were four of them, by the looks of it), Graham turned to the Doctor, hugging himself for warmth. “What if this is a trap?” He asked.

“Usually people ask me if it’s a trap later than this,” the Doctor replied. “We get to talking to the supposed rebel group, something suspicious happens, and someone invariably asks, ‘is it a trap?’ You’re a refreshing change of pace.”

”It  _ is _ possible for you to just answer a question, right?” Graham said.

“Of course it’s possible,” said the Doctor. “I don’t know if it’s probable, but it’s definitely possible.”

“Great. Now. What if this is a trap?” Graham asked again. He was getting grumpy. And cold. Actually, he’d been cold for quite a while, and that was what was making him grumpy.

“Then it’s our best bet to walk straight into it,” the Doctor replied. “It might help us, actually. I don’t think it’s a trap, though,” she added quickly, seeing Graham’s look of displeasure intensify. “There aren’t enough people, and there’s nowhere to hide.”

“Greetings,” called one of them, an older woman. Her face was obscured by a large, surprisingly beautiful gas mask, and all that could be seen were her dark dreadlocks, beginning to be tinged with gray.

“Hello, yourself,” the Doctor called back. She sprinted the rest of the way, Graham reluctantly following suit. “Hi again,” she said with a smile, now in front of the old woman. “I’m the Doctor. This is Graham.”

“A doctor?” The woman asked. “We could use a doctor. What are you doing out here?”

“Listen,” said the Doctor, still breathing hard from running in the cold air, “can we maybe do the interrogation somewhere a bit warmer? And out of the poisonous air? We’re friends. I don’t know whose side you’re on, but we try to be friendly with everyone except the bad guys. Whoever they are.”

The woman seemed to consider. “Very well. But,” she added, her voice cold, “if you turn out to be against us, I’m afraid you will be shot.” She turned to the people behind her. “Come. Let us go down.”

The Doctor made a face at Graham behind the woman’s back and mouthed  _ Guns. Why must it always be guns? _

_ I don’t understand what you’re saying _ , Graham mouthed back. He raised his shoulders and eyebrows, trying to convey confusion.

The Doctor gave up trying to mouth anything else at him.

The woman was watching them—or at least, her gas mask was turned towards them. “When you two are quite finished, you can come with us.” Graham and the Doctor turned towards her simultaneously, and their jaws dropped.

The four gas-mask-wearing people had somehow silently moved the boulder away, revealing an intricately carved spiral staircase going down.

The Doctor slowly clapped. “Oh, bravo! I love it! Nothing like a good secret passageway. This really is exciting, isn’t it?”

“You two first,” the older woman said, extending a gloved hand towards the staircase.”

As they walked down, the Doctor was all excitement, gushing over the artistry of the…  _ staircase _ . “Oh, look at this bit,” she would randomly exclaim, pointing to a particularly intricate bit of metalwork, or an exquisitely carved flower or something.

Graham was more interested in the walls of the tunnel around them. There were beautiful mosaics that were arranged, comic-book style on the walls. It seemed to be telling a story, but Graham couldn’t quite tell what. There were no words.

The people behind them had remained quiet, but once they reached the bottom of the staircase, they removed their gas masks and one of them, a young man, led the way. “This place is a veritable warren,” he explained. “You could get lost really easily.” He looked like he was about to say more, but the older woman—who had taken off her beautiful mask to reveal a dark, age-lined face with big, almost haunted eyes—coughed, and he shut up.

“So,” said the Doctor, turning around to face the woman. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“That is because I didn’t give it to you,” the woman replied evenly. “I don’t give my name to strangers.”

“But we’re not strangers!” The Doctor said quickly. “I already told you: I’m the Doctor, and this is Graham. We’re friends.”

“You don’t even know who we are,” the woman said scornfully. “Or what we stand for, or why we’re living below ground.”

“I imagine you’re below ground to stay out of the air as much as possible,” the Doctor replied. “The gas masks can keep you safe from the poison, but it’s still very cold. Nuclear winter?” She leaned in close. “Listen, I’m here to help. I’ve been to this planet before, and it was  _ beautiful _ . Properly gorgeous. If you tell me what’s been going on, I can see what I can do to fix it. I’m good at fixing things.”

“How do you know we don’t like it better this way?” The woman asked, raising her eyebrows.

The Doctor grinned. “Call it a hunch. Look at your masks,the staircase, the mosaics on the walls. Your clothes. You stand out. You look odd.”

“I might say the same thing about you,” the woman replied. “You and this… Graham. You both are so pale. How are you supposed to move around unseen if you don’t look like everyone else on the planet? How are you supposed to fix things if everyone’s distrust of strangers is at an all-time high?”

“Very good questions, but I really can’t answer anything until I know what’s going on,” the Doctor said. “But I know I’m right.”

“Right about what?” The woman asked.

The Doctor leaned in close to her again. “You’re not working for the goddess. The goddess might not even know you exist.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “She is  _ not _ a goddess. What she does can be explained through science, I am sure of it. Anything someone might consider magic can be explained through science, they just do not have access to that level of science yet.”

“Brava,” said the Doctor. “A scientific Faurel. I thought you all were artists.”

“Are the arts and science so very different that they cannot be combined?” The woman asked.

“Oh, very good!” The Doctor exclaimed. “You know, I think I’m beginning to like you.”

The woman suppressed a smile. The Doctor pressed her advantage. “And as for who you are—well, I think I’ve got that figured out.”

The shadow of a smile disappeared. “What do you mean by that?” The woman asked.

The Doctor dropped her voice. “You’re the last natural, undamaged Faurels, aren’t you?”


	10. Chapter 10

The goddess had allowed Ryan a certain degree of freedom now that all secrets were out. He wasn’t allowed to visit Yaz without her permission, but other than that, he was pretty much free to go wherever. He had a bedroom with a decently comfortable bed, enough food to keep him from feeling uncomfortably hungry (although it was bland and tasteless), and access to any room without weapons.

It was unnerving. Now that all secrets were out, he didn’t trust the goddess one iota. He was certain she had some ulterior motive in allowing him to roam the place as he pleased.

And she still wasn’t telling him anything helpful. He’d been plying her with as many questions he dared ask, trying to find out more about her, her motive, her plan, who she really was.

“I told you already,” she had said, the last time he asked. “I’m a goddess.” She sounded bored, annoyed by the information.

“But what are you a goddess  _ of _ ?” Ryan persisted. “Death?”

That had made her roll her eyes, which wasn’t a good sign. Ryan hoped nothing bad would happen to Yaz as a result of his questions. He didn’t think anything had happened so far, but he didn’t know for sure. The goddess was also very secretive about anything concerning Yaz.

“I’m not the goddess of  _ death _ ,” she had replied. “How boring is that?” She refused to say anything more, even when Ryan tried guessing other things.

She had, however, confirmed the Doctor’s suspicion that the strange, helmeted people—her personal guard, and a sort of police force—were deaf. They communicated using sign language. Ryan had been reprimanded by the goddess for breaking down in hysterical giggles after seeing the guards simultaneously raise their middle finger at the goddess. Apparently, it meant something like, ‘I obey.’

Ryan was forced to spend quite a bit of his time with the goddess. She didn’t trust him enough to let him roam wherever and  _ whenever _ . But when he wasn’t sitting in her throne room, he was doing whatever he could to figure out what was going on: the layout of the building, which he learned was a palace of some sort; the routines of the guards; the history of the place. Anything that could get him and Yaz out. He remembered the Doctor’s fixation on asking the right questions, and tried to figure out which questions were the most important. He was forced not to spend time on the question he wanted the answer to the most: where is the Doctor? Instead, he continued researching all that he could, listened in on the palace servants (or were they slaves? Ryan wasn’t sure), and started trying to learn sign language.

The problem was that there was nothing to find out. The library was full of religious books concerning worship rituals for the goddess. The palace was a maze. The guards seemed to have irregular habits. The palace servants, or slaves, or whatever, weren’t speaking to him. He wasn’t sure if they were afraid to, or if they had been commanded not to, or what. It wasn’t until one of them smiled widely at him that he saw that their tongues had been cut out.

His one consolation was that the Doctor hadn’t left. He’d worked it all out: if the Doctor left, the TARDIS would be gone. And if the TARDIS was gone, he wouldn’t be able to understand the goddess. The Doctor had taken out the translation implant-things long ago.

At least, he hoped that was the case. With the palace guards and servants unable or unwilling to speak, he had to rely on the fact that the goddess was speaking whatever language the Faurels spoke. She’d guessed that he was from Earth. Maybe she spoke English? Or maybe some sort of translation thing had been implanted in him while he’d been knocked out, all those days ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

The doubt about the whereabouts of the Doctor continued to grow and gnaw at Ryan. So much so, that he resolved to ask the goddess about it the next time he saw her.

The opportunity showed up sooner than he anticipated. She called him to her throne room. He often was forced to sit there, on a stained, torn cushion. He got the feeling that she thought of him as a pet.

“Ma’am?” He asked quietly. He still wasn’t sure how to address her. She had told him to address her as ‘your Divinity,’ but he couldn’t say it with a straight face.

She turned in her throne to face him. “Yes, Ryan?” She asked, in a tone that showed all too clearly how annoyed she was at being interrupted from her Very Important Duties of staring into space and occasionally calling for the imprisonment of some servant or other.

“I was wondering—” Ryan’s voice broke off.

“Well?”

“Is the Doctor still here? I haven’t heard anything about her. I thought you would be looking for her or something.” He shrugged helplessly, trying to play it off as mere curiosity.

“Still here as in still in Pele, or still here as in on the planet?” The goddess asked. She seemed vaguely amused now. Her moods changed quickly, so Ryan pressed his advantage.

“On the planet,” he replied. “I thought she must be, because I can still understand you, but then I remembered that you know about Earth, so you might know English.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, standing up and walking over to him. “I  _ might _ know English?” She touched his cheek with her cold, pale hand. “Of course I know English. I am a confirmed polyglot.”

Ryan felt his stomach sink.

“But I’m not speaking English,” she continued. “You’re not special enough to warrant the speaking of an entirely different language.” She dropped her hand and returned to her throne. “The Doctor’s still here, somewhere. Hiding out. She tried to escape, of course.” She viewed Ryan through half-closed eyes, watching his reaction.

Ryan tried his best not to react. “She wouldn’t have tried to leave without me and Yaz,” he protested, trying to keep his voice neutral. “We’re her friends. Closest thing she’s got to a family.”

This made the goddess laugh out loud. “Oh, Ryan, my  _ dear _ ,” she sighed, once she was able to get a word out. “The Doctor hates the family she  _ has _ . Why in the seven galaxies would she want a  _ new _  one?”

“But the Doctor doesn’t have a family,” Ryan stammered. “She told us so.”

“Are you really that naive?” The goddess asked. “Oh, of course you are,” she added, not waiting for an answer. “Ryan, love, the Doctor lies. She always has done. It’s nothing against you or Yaz or your beloved granddad. She’s done it for as long as she can remember. Since she was a little Time Tot.”

“A little  _ what _ ?”

The goddess rolled her eyes. “You know, I don’t blame the Doctor for not telling you anything. It must be tedious to tell all your companions the exact same things every single time. And, you know, being mysterious is  _ very _ fun.”

“Can I visit Yaz?”

“I beg your pardon?” The goddess looked startled at Ryan’s sudden bluntness.

“I want to visit Yaz,” Ryan said. “I haven’t seen her in a few days. And I’ve done everything you’ve told me. It’s only fair that I get to talk to her. See how she’s doing.”

“Only because I’m feeling nice,” the goddess said, surprising Ryan. She gestured to one of the guards milling about in the room and signed something to him, gesturing at Ryan as she did so. The guard raised his middle finger at the goddess, Ryan tried not to laugh, and he was led away.

It wasn’t until the guard threw him in a cell that he realized that he wasn’t going to be granted his request.

—————

 

It had been a few days, according to the Doctor. What that meant, Graham wasn’t sure. Three? Four, maybe? He’d lost all track of time. The Doctor had spent all her time shut up with the old woman—Haren, her name was. This had left Graham alone with a bunch of complete strangers.

He wasn’t even sure what was going on. The Doctor had called them the last undamaged Faurels. Did that mean they’d escaped the Berellian, somehow? He’d only seen about twenty since they arrived. Were there so few left?

Graham sat in his room. It wasn’t actually  _ his _ room, but a dorm for all the male Faurels. He’d been stuck in there with them, in an empty bed. The only one to speak to him so far was a young man, maybe around Ryan’s age. Tam. He was a tall boy, probably around Ryan’s height. In fact, he looked a lot like Ryan. He was very friendly. Probably desperate for some new company.

It was around then that Tam stuck his head into the room. “Graham?” he said. He sounded hopeful. 

“Yeah, what is it?” Graham replied, getting up quickly.

“The Doctor and Haren are finally out. They’re looking for you.”

“For me?” Graham asked.  _ It’s about time _ , he mentally added.

Tam laughed. “Yeah. And when you’re done, I want to show you a sculpture. Spent all night on it. Not that night means anything down here,” he added thoughtfully. “More of an expression than an actual physical reminder of the passing of time, I s’pose.”

He led Graham out of the dormitory and through the winding tunnels until they reached Haren’s office. She was the oldest and wisest, apparently, thus making her the person in charge. The Doctor stood next to her, an expectant smile on her face. Her ear cuff glinted in the dim light.

“Graham!” she exclaimed. “Good. Now we can get to work.”

Graham thought he saw Haren roll her eyes, but it was dark, so he could have been mistaken. “I thought we already were working, Doctor?” she said, her voice rising.

“Well. We were,” the Doctor admitted. “But I need my friends here with me. Helps me think.”

“Was that supposed to gratify me?” Graham asked her. 

“Not necessarily gratify you, but at least make you a little bit happier. I’ve been neglecting you. Sorry.”

“I’m less upset about you neglecting me, and more upset about you completely forgetting about Ryan and Yaz,” Graham replied.

A brief look of annoyance crossed the Doctor’s face. “I haven’t forgotten about them,” she said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Graham, we’ve stumbled on the hidden rebels. There are  _ always _ hidden rebels. And we need to help them overthrow the evil goddess, and then we can get Ryan and Yaz back, safe and sound.”

Graham crossed his arms.

“If you would be so kind,” Haren quickly said, stopping them from arguing further, “to step into my office?” She shooed Tam away, and they proceeded.

Her office was an earthen affair. It was the least developed of all the rooms, caves, and tunnels in the subterranean outpost, but it still looked beautiful. It had been decorated with different artwork, all of the same garden. An ornately carved bookcase held volume upon volume of handbound books. Graham looked around before settling himself on a chair. The Doctor sat down next to him. Haren remained standing.

“I understand that your grandson is in the clutches of the goddess,” she told him quietly. “And for that, I am most truly sorry.”

Graham shrugged. “It’s alright,” he said, even though it really wasn’t. “We’ll get him back eventually. And Yaz.”

Haren shot a pained look at the Doctor. “How long have the two been trapped with the goddess?” she asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“Graham, please,” the Doctor cut in. She turned to Haren. “I’m sorry. Obviously, Graham hasn’t gotten to know you very well. Ryan and Yaz have been captured since we first arrived. Perhaps a week?”

Haren shook her head. “Then I worry for them. If they haven’t become her slaves, they’ve been tortured out of their minds.”

_ “WHAT _ ?!” Graham shouted. He rose from his chair, half-turning to face the Doctor. “You told me they would be fine! Not tortured to insanity! I trusted you! We always do!”

The Doctor raised her hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know?” she asked him. “I didn’t realize that the planet was in this state, or I never would have taken you. I was trying to go somewhere nice.”

“You’re always trying to go somewhere nice,” Graham muttered. “For all the good it does us.”

“If I may continue,” Haren began.

“No,” Graham stated flatly. “You may not. What’s been going on? Why should I trust any of you? My job is to keep Ryan safe, not overthrow evil goddesses.”

“I was trying to explain,” Haren said. “I can tell you what’s been going on. Answer all your questions. And then we can figure out a plan to get the goddess taken care of, once and for all.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Features some descriptions of injuries. There aren’t really any new injuries, but I do describe some that happened offscreen a few chapters ago.

Haren looked between Graham and the Doctor, pausing, waiting to see if Graham would start arguing with her again. And then she began to talk.

“Once upon a time, the planet Faure was a beautiful world. Nature, sciences, and the arts flourished. It was the closest thing the universe had ever produced to a utopia. Its citizens, the peace-loving Faurels, continued to progress in culture and technology, each new wave of learning helping to improve the already wonderful place. 

“In this society, they had no set religion. If they chose, they worshipped their own deities, but there was no strife between the various beliefs. The people of Faure had succeeded in creating a heaven of sorts.

“It would all change when the goddess came down from the heavens in her ship.”

That interested the Doctor. “What sort of—” she began, but Haren interrupted her, continuing her monologue.

“She was tall and pale, and carried herself straight as a pillar. Her voice was melodious and dramatic, and many began to fall under her spell. She demanded to be worshipped. To be loved. To be feared.

“When some of the Faurels, chose not to worship her (as was their right), she grew angry and jealous. She caused natural disasters, took the air away from the planet, and closed it off from the rest of the universe. Her priests all disappeared, one by one. Soon, other people began to disappear. But even this kidnapping was not her most heinous crime. No, that was still yet to come. The goddess would eventually begin to destroy art.

“At first, it was almost unnoticeable. The canvas of a painting torn through. A sculpture knocked over and broken. A building burned down. Things that can happen by sheer accident.

“And then the goddess began doing it in public. People were still resisting her. Angering her. And so she sent out armies of guards, deaf to all, in shining helmets. They went into the homes of the Faurels and smashed everything. Destroyed art. Mangled it beyond recognition.

“I do not know if you are familiar with the art of our planet, Doctor. But we do not just ‘make art.’ We put our very soul into our work.” Haren paused.

“Yes,” said the Doctor softly. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“It is said,” Haren continued, brushing back tears, “in the legends of our world that once, the great artist Akken had all of his art destroyed by a wildfire. Completely natural. There was nothing anyone could have done. But it drove him mad. He went insane. Went on a rampage, destroying everything in his sight. As he destroyed a friend’s art, his friend felt physical pain, and cried out for him to stop.

“No one knows how we put our soul into our work. Not even us. But we all know the consequences of losing our work.

“The goddess proved to us that she is evil. There is not a Faurel left on the planet who has not had family and friends taken from them by her, whether they disappeared or went insane.

“We also do not know where her guards came from, or where the missing Faurels went. We think the guards might be the missing Faurels, but no one knows for sure. The truth is, we are all too afraid to do anything.

“Two years ago, a rebellion was launched. There were several thousand unharmed Faurels at that point in time.

“A traitor in our midst sold us out to the goddess in exchange for safety. Even that was short-lived. We know that she destroyed all his art not long after. Not because she was angry at him. Simply because she was bored.

“The traitor, a man named Mekken, was responsible for the deaths and disappearances of almost all of us. The several thousand dwindled down to one hundred and four. Since then, the hunt for the remaining hundred and four has seen our numbers decline even further.

“There are fifty-two of us now, Doctor. Fifty-two Faurels left who have successfully hidden away themselves and their art from the goddess, who have hidden so long underground that we are growing weak from lack of sunlight.”

Haren fixed her gaze on the Doctor. “Tell me truthfully, Doctor. What hope do we have against her?”

 

—————

 

Yaz woke up, startled. There was someone in the room with her, she was certain of it. She had felt them, felt their voice in her head, felt them move around like she  _ was _ them. 

She wasn’t sure what was going on. She knew her sides hurt, from her hips to her armpits. She didn’t know why. Her head pounded, and her mouth felt dry, but that was normal. Her throat hurt, but that was normal, too.

It was scary how she thought that was normal.

Slowly her thoughts began to return to her. She could remember now why her sides hurt so much. She shivered involuntarily, remembering the way the cold metal had cut through her skin.

She had screamed, even though she didn’t think her vocal chords could physically make noise at that point. She hadn’t been able to do anything else. She hadn’t been able to think, or move, or do anything.

Yaz couldn’t see the cuts the goddess had made with the hooked knife, but she could imagine how they looked. They itched and stung. Yaz wondered if they would leave permanent scars on her sides. Scars that would make her torso look like it had been stitched up by some mad scientist.

Her vision was clearing now, and she could see clearly who it was who was in the room with her. Someone standing above her and slightly to the left. The goddess. She was smiling at Yaz, showing her teeth.

“Ah, you’re awake now, Yaz,” she said. “My dear.”

Yaz didn’t reply, only shivered again. She couldn’t figure out why she was so cold.

“I’m feeling particularly nice,” said the goddess, still smiling widely. “And I’m going to untie you from this table. Would that make you happy?”

Yaz nodded, ever so slightly. Even doing that brought fresh waves of nausea and pounding from her headache.

The goddess proceeded to untie the bonds at her wrists and ankles, and Yaz felt some immediate relief. Her wrists and ankles had been wrapped with old rags, but they weren’t much help against the chafing that came from involuntary writhing in pain. She curled up almost immediately into a ball, and briefly considered biting her nails (an old bad habit from when she was small), but decided she wouldn’t give the goddess too much satisfaction. She at least knew now why she was so cold. She had jeans on her legs, but her shirt had been removed and now all that covered her were several layers of bandages wrapped around her torso.

“Sit up, Yaz,” the goddess said shortly. “I haven’t come here to talk just for you to curl up in a ball and not listen.”

“Can’t,” Yaz said, her voice barely a whisper. She shivered again, violently.

The goddess rolled her eyes. “Life is pain, Yaz. Get used to it.” She watched Yaz for a few moments, shrugged, and continued. “I have all these secret plans that I want to share with someone,” she said, pulling a fake pout. “And I can’t tell anyone. But then I thought to myself, ‘why, Yaz isn’t going anywhere! I can tell  _ her _ , surely.’ And so I shall.”

“I…” Yaz began. She coughed, a dry, rattling thing. “I won’t be here forever,” she continued, her voice giving up halfway through and forcing her to whisper the rest.

“Of course you won’t be here forever!” the goddess replied reassuringly. “You’ll die long before forever can happen, even if I keep you alive as long as possible. And when you die, you’ll eventually decompose and become dust. And anyway, forever is infinite, and you are finite. You can’t stay  _ anywhere _ forever. But,” she added quickly, “you  _ will _ be here for a very long time.”

“The Doctor,” Yaz mumbled.

This time the goddess laughed out loud. “Yaz, darling,” she cried. “How many times do I have to tell you? The Doctor won’t come for you! You’re her  _ pet _ , Yaz.” She dropped her voice. “She doesn’t care how badly I hurt you, as long as you don’t die.”

She looked over Yaz again, still curled up. “Sit up.”

“No,” Yaz whispered.

“Then I shall be forced to hurt you again.” The goddess’s voice was cold.

Yaz sat up. She was slow, and it hurt beyond measure. For long moments, her head pounded so badly that she couldn’t see. She felt nauseous.

“There.” The goddess’s voice was much calmer. Sweeter. “Now. You think that I have some sort of odd little plan in place, don’t you? You can just nod or shake your head, Yaz,” she added suddenly, her voice devoid of theatrics. “I don’t want you to get… messy.”

Yaz nodded.

“Now why is that always the case?” the goddess asked. “Everyone always assumes that, just because you’re an alien who’s taken over the planet, you’ve got some kind of convoluted plan for continued domination. Some people give the rest of us a bad name.”

“You—you’re an alien?” Yaz asked shakily.

The goddess rolled her eyes. “Of  _ course _ I’m an alien, Yaz, dear. That little fact is so  _ blatantly _ obvious that even Ryan knows, probably.”

“Ryan,” Yaz mumbled. “Where’s Ryan?”

The goddess sighed. “He’s in a cell because I got bored, but that’s not important right now. We’re talking about me right now. Don’t change the subject.”

Yaz managed to roll her eyes.

“Now. I do  _ not _ have some convoluted plan for domination. I didn’t from the start.” The goddess watched Yaz through half-closed eyes, gauging her reaction. For her part, Yaz was hurting too much to react. “I’m enacting a plan, yes,” she went on, “but it’s not my own. I don’t even know any of the future steps.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Yaz asked.

“Oh, it’s a family affair,” the goddess replied offhandedly. “ _ And _ they told me that I could hurt anyone I wanted to.” She smiled broadly at Yaz.

“Why are you telling me this?” Yaz whispered. She was beginning to collapse. She didn’t think she could sit up much longer.

The goddess paused for a moment, thinking. Her smile returned. “Because I’m bored. This planet is a nice little place, but it’s _so_ _boring_.” She shrugged. “I’m not here for much longer. Soon there won’t be anyone left who isn’t deranged and out of their tiny little minds. Planet of the empaths.” She laughed. “Easy targets.” She walked around to the other side of the table, looking at Yaz. “My, you were hurt badly, weren’t you?” she said, with disinterested curiosity, like she was viewing a creature in a zoo.

Yaz felt a wave of pain wash  _ through _ her, felt her lungs close up, her throat constrict. “You should know,” she choked out. “You—were—the one—to—do this—to me.” She fell back onto the table. Bloodstains began to appear on the bandages at her sides, growing larger by the moment.

“Oh, dear,” the goddess said, with an odd, childlike giggle. I seem to have reopened those wounds of yours. How very clumsy of me.” Her features immediately hardened. “Now, Yaz,” she said quietly. “It’s time for you to join me out in the throne room. A little change of scenery. Oh,” she added. “And find a shirt. In  _ some _ places it would be acceptable to walk around in bloody bandages, but I run a respectable palace. No matter how much torture, the sight of blood is  _ not _ one for the throne room.”

“Don’t know where my shirt is,” Yaz muttered.

“That’s not  _ my _ fault, is it?” the goddess retorted. She gestured to the guard who had followed her into the room and signed something at him. Or her. Or them. She then walked out of the room, muttering things under her breath about how she had to do everything.

The guard approached Yaz, gloved hands outstretched. Yaz scrabbled backwards, as far back on the table as she could. “Leave me alone, don’t touch me, oh  _ God _ , please leave me alone,” she whispered, her voice squeaking out its protests.

The guard ignored her and grabbed her arms. Yaz would have fought back—she knew how to fight, and she was pretty good at it. But she couldn’t. She barely had the strength to hold her head up. It was easy enough for the guard to secure her hands with a length of rope.

They continued on with their task, the helmet obscuring their face. They reached out and began unwrapping her bandages, slowly. Carefully.

“Leave me  _ al _ o _ ne _ !” Yaz shouted, her voice cracking. She struggled at the rope tying her wrists together.

The guard continued without showing any sign that they had even heard her. They just continued to methodically take the bandages off.

Yaz felt utterly exposed and humiliated. She wished she could fight the guard off, but there was nothing she could do. She shivered.

To her surprise, the guard took out a roll of bandages and began to wrap her back up again. When they were done, they reached under the table and took out what looked an awful lot like a dressing gown. It was a little stained (with what, Yaz wasn’t sure) and torn, but Yaz was in no position to argue with it. She gratefully accepted it, didn’t argue when the guard untied her hands and gently threaded her arms through the sleeves, like they were dressing a doll. She didn’t even argue when they picked her up and carried her bridal-style out of the room. She was tired, after all.

And so she was taken away. Taken away to join the goddess


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Doctor’s pockets. They never stop being a source of amusement for me.

There was going to be an expedition to the surface to retrieve the Doctor’s TARDIS. It would take no more than a few hours. The Doctor herself would be there, overseeing the entire thing, wearing a spare gas mask that had once belonged to a Faurel. They could get some things they needed, go back to the hideout, and infiltrate the palace from there.

The Doctor was very proud of her plan. She thought it would work splendidly. And now that she had that squared away, she could focus her efforts on worrying about Yaz and Ryan.

She knew she had been callous recently, almost disregarding Graham’s overwhelming concern for the two. But she had to prioritize. She was fairly certain they weren’t dead. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. She knew she had no proof that they hadn’t been killed. She just couldn’t let herself think in that way. She had to be optimistic. And if she couldn’t be optimistic in this situation, she would force herself to be.

She was silent on their long walk, grateful for her warm coat and rainbow-colored scarf. It was an apocalyptic winter out there, the kind where the cold came whispering through cracks, making your very bones shiver and ache. She wondered what happened specifically to make such a thing happen. Haren spoke only in vagueness, in generalities. She couldn’t tell the Doctor anything specific. In all truthfulness, she hadn’t been much more helpful than Mekken, although she had confirmed the fact that Mekken was a spy.

That saddened the Doctor. Mekken had been incredibly helpful to her the last time she’d visited the planet, back when she was traveling with Frobisher. She’d rather liked him. And he hadn’t seemed all that happy when she saw him just recently. In fact, he seemed slightly insane. She wondered if the goddess had some form of mind control over him, or if the destruction of his art had done it.

She had too many questions and not enough answers. And that was why she hadn’t told Haren her full plan. She needed a chance to get the answers.

But first, they had to get to the TARDIS.

There was a slight problem, however, when they got there. The TARDIS was being loaded onto the bed of a large truck, and a team of those helmeted guards (or whatever their occupation was) were overseeing it.

Haren (who had insisted on being part of the expedition) turned to the Doctor. “You betrayed us!” she hissed. Her face was obscured by the gas mask, but her voice gave away her rage.

“No, no I didn’t!” the Doctor protested. “I didn’t know this would happen, how could I? I’ve been with you almost the entire time, I want to help you. She has two of my friends imprisoned in her palace!” Her voice rose uncontrollably. She could feel herself losing her control.

“Be quiet!” Haren said, her voice a savage whisper. “They’ll hear you, and then we’ll be done for!”

The Doctor managed a laugh. It came through the gas mask sounding strange and tinny, almost harsh. That hadn’t been her intention. “They’re deaf, Haren,” she said. “Or maybe their helmets block out sound. I’m not sure which. Either way, they can’t hear us. Look at them. They’re communicating using sign language.”

Haren looked back at the guards, watching them silently. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “You’re right, I suppose,” she said. “But you understand this throws a bit of a problem into your plan.”

“Our plan,” the Doctor corrected.

“No,” said Haren. “This was your plan.”

“That’s hardly fair,” said the Doctor. “This is as much for you as it is for me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Haren replied, a hard edge in her voice. “I mean that  _ you _ came up with the plan and  _ you _ spent all your time convincing myself and your associate that it was a good one. And now look at what’s happening: your precious TARDIS is being loaded up by the goddess’s guards, destined either for scrap or ruination or to be a bait for you.”

“Why would it be a bait for me?” the Doctor asked.

“Were you not listening to me at all when I was trying to explain what happened to this planet?” Haren asked rhetorically, annoyed. 

“I was, but I’ve currently been trying to fight off an alien invasion of my mind as well as come up with a good plan to save your planet and my friends. Forgive me if a few of the details slipped my attention,” the Doctor replied sarcastically.

“I said that the planet was  _ sealed _ , Doctor,” Haren said slowly, as if explaining to a small child. The Doctor resented that. “She probably wants to know how you got onto the planet.” She paused for a moment. “Sealed means you can’t get in or out,” she added helpfully.

“Yes, I know what that means, thank you very much,” the Doctor replied. “Which explains why the HADS was unsuccessful in removing us from the planet.” She shook her head for a moment, thinking. “How the hell did we get onto the planet in the first place, then?”

“I was rather hoping you would tell me,” Haren said. “I was hoping you would help get the rest of us off this planet and onto a new world, one where we can start anew. Let the goddess take over this crumbling planet.”

“What?” the Doctor exclaimed, aghast. “And just give up?”

“We wouldn’t be giving up, Doctor,” Haren insisted. “We would be starting over. We would be raising up a new Faure with the survivors. We don’t have the numbers left to win against the goddess. I’m not giving up. I’m ensuring that we all survive, and more importantly, thrive.”

“But then you’d have the constant fear that the goddess would come back,” said the Doctor.

“She’s happy here, at least for the time,” Haren said with a shrug. “And the universe is a big place. She probably wouldn’t get to us for a long time yet, even if she did eventually leave. Anyway, even if we did overthrow her with your rather spotty plan, how would we save this planet? We have a populace who are mostly insane, poisonous air, and a world that behaves like an apocalypse has taken place. Well,” she added. “I suppose an apocalypse did take place, when the goddess came.”

As much as the Doctor hated to admit it, Haren had a point. “Listen,” she said, after a moment’s reflection. “How about this for a new plan: we get to the palace and overthrow the goddess, save my friends, find any Faurels that might be able to be saved, and then relocate you to an unspoiled planet where you can rebuild.”

“And how are we going to get into the palace?” Haren asked, unimpressed. The Doctor could imagine that she was raising her (rather impressive) eyebrows, even if the gas mask concealed that fact.

“Like this.” The Doctor took off at a run towards the truck before it could drive away with the TARDIS. She waved her arms like a maniac, took off her scarf and whipped it through the air. One of the guards pointed. And the group began to run towards her.

“Doctor—” Haren said, then stopped, perhaps deciding not to argue. She put up no fight when the guards secured her arms behind her back. The others in her party followed her example and submitted quietly.

The Doctor, for her part, allowed herself to be bundled into the bed of the truck, alongside the TARDIS. The others soon joined her.

“Did you stop and think at all?” Haren asked her, once she was sitting next to the Doctor.

“Of course I did!” the Doctor sounded affronted that Haren would question her like that. “And this is the best way for us to get to the palace. Perhaps we’ll get an immediate audience with the goddess.”

“That’s exactly what I  _ don’t _ want, Doctor,” Haren replied.

The Doctor’s face fell. Haren felt rather like she had just stepped on the tail of a puppy. “Why not?” she asked.

Haren tried not to roll her eyes. “Because,” she explained, trying to be patient, “the goddess breaks the minds of Faurels. If any of us meet her, we’re at a risk of losing our sanity. And then what shall happen to our brave new world when this is all over?

“Oh,” said the Doctor, a little surprised. “Yeah, that’s not a good thing. A very bad thing, in fact. I didn’t even think of that.”

“I could tell.”

The Doctor shot Haren a dirty look, forgetting that the gas mask would cover it up. “I have a backup plan, just so you know,” she said. Her voice bumped up on  _ plan _ , as the truck rolled over a large hole in the road.

“And what is that, Doctor?” Haren asked.

“Hide in the TARDIS,” the Doctor advised. “I’ll stay out of it, because I want to meet this goddess. But you can stay in there, and you’ll be safe.”

“Safe in that?” Haren replied. “And how are the four of us supposed to fit in there? Especially if it’s got all those tools you said would help us get into the palace.”

“Oh, that.” The Doctor tried to wave her hand, forgetting that the guards had tied them behind her back. She set to work on freeing herself as she spoke. Next time she saw Harry Houdini, she’d have to thank him for that brief tutorial in escaping shackles. “It’s a bit roomier than it appears. Just make sure you stay in the console room. Don’t go exploring. You could get lost.”

Although the Doctor couldn’t see it under the gas mask, Haren was giving her an indulgent smile. “Of course not, Doctor,” she said, like a grandmother patiently listening to the worries of an overly-concerned parent before promptly ignoring all their lists of advice when caring for the grandchild. It wasn’t that Haren was going to ignore the Doctor’s advice. She just thought the Doctor was slightly crazy.

“No, I mean it,” the Doctor said. She finished freeing her hands and plunged them into her coat pockets, fishing around for her key. She found it amid a package of candyfloss, three yo-yos, a humming top, five terents (the leading currency in the Elvlos star system), a certificate for a free pizza at the Lucky Stars Intergalactic Bowling Alley, a spare bit of copper wire, and a dog collar. “Here we are!” she exclaimed, accidentally pulling out a china teacup along with the key. “Whoops,” she added, putting the teacup back into her pocket. She quickly inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. “All aboard,” she said cheerfully.

“That’s all well and good,” said Haren. “But we’re still all tied up. How did you get out?”

“An afternoon with Harry Houdini,” the Doctor replied, still cheerful. “Excellent man. Until he faked his death and returned to his home planet, of course.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, never mind,” the Doctor said. “Here, let me get you out.”

She undid their restraints one by one, and one by one, they crawled into the TARDIS, which was lying on its side.

After they were all inside, Haren poked her head out the door. “This really  _ is _ big,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “I suppose… I’m sorry that I doubted you.”

The Doctor waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing. Oh, by the way,” she added quickly. “You can take off your gas masks inside the TARDIS. Perfectly safe. Shielded from any physical and mental attacks on your person.”

“That will be nice,” Haren admitted. She paused. “Thank you, Doctor.” She stuck her head back in the TARDIS and shut the door.

The Doctor reached out and touched the door of the TARDIS fondly. “It’ll be alright, old girl,” she said softly. Gently. She leaned against it, feeling its hum. She closed her eyes, and all the worry of the past few days eased from her face, even if it was hidden by the gas mask. “I’ve missed you.” A half-smile teased at the corners of her mouth. “Poor Graham. He’s still alone in that underground bunker.” She rubbed the TARDIS affectionately. “We’ll get the team back together soon. I promise.”

She just wished she knew who she was promising.


	13. Chapter 13

When they unloaded the TARDIS, the guards made hand motions at the Doctor, clearly asking her what happened to the other prisoners.

To the Doctor’s surprise, she understood what they were saying. She vaguely recognized the signs, was able to understand the gist of what she was being told. Her ability to respond was not quite as good as her ability to understand, unfortunately, and so she spent her time trying to make her words understood. She gave an exaggerated shrug and said, “THEY FELL OUT,” very loudly and slowly.

Eventually, the guards gave up. The Doctor decided to try the whole “Take me to your leader,” routine, and even managed to get a few signs out that she was  _ fairly _ certain meant those things.

They marched her down hallways of torn carpet and slashed paintings, through a veritable rabbit warren. It reminded the Doctor of the corridors in the Citadel on Gallifrey. Well, the Citadel if it had been thoroughly trashed. More guards carried the TARDIS on their shoulders behind her, m

Finally, the hallway they were in widened, and they came through a wide doorway into a large room. It would have been light and airy, had it not been for the fact that this room was just as trashed as the halls.

The large windows were the only thing intact in the hall. They let in the fading daylight and offered a view of what the Doctor recognized as the north side of Pele. The building they were in, she realized, was exactly the spot of the Celestial Family Art Convention. This building, the palace they were standing in, had once held the greatest art on the planet. It was, she remembered, the greatest art collection in the universe, until her brother had gone and tried to ruin it. He didn’t handle obsolescence well.

Of course, that had been an easy fix. The Art Convention lasted only a few weeks, and then much of the art was auctioned off to benefit various charities across the Pleiades. The Doctor had convinced her brother to buy the best art for his collection, rather than steal all of his favorite pieces and then blow the place up through a variety of rather shady contacts. This was a much more difficult problem.

The throne in the middle of the windows was framed by the fading daylight. Once upon a time, the windows would have offered a magnificent view of the sunset in the east. On the other side of the palace, there was another overview for looking at the sunrise. It didn’t matter either way. The sun was weak, or else blotted out entirely. The Doctor wasn’t sure if it was because of some kind of anomalous cloud cover or if it was the sealing of the planet that Haren had mentioned earlier.

Sitting on the throne was a woman. She appeared to be tall, although she was sitting down, so it was hard to tell. Her skin was pale, unlike the native Faurels, and her hair was black. She had long bangs streaked with white, the Doctor noted. She wondered what that was about. Was the woman just aging? Was she going for a Cruella De Vil look? Did it have something to do with the mental powers she was exerting? The Doctor supposed it didn’t really matter in the end.

The woman stood and smiled broadly. She had large teeth. She was about to say something, probably unbearably melodramatic, but the Doctor interrupted her before she could even start.

“Hello!” the Doctor waved. “I take it you’re the goddess around here?”

The guards set the TARDIS down in one corner of the room, next to a large, cushion-y thing that looked rather like a very large dog’s bed. There was a slumped figure laying in it. The Doctor wondered who it was.

“Doctor,” the woman said, her voice rich. “I’ve been waiting for you to come. I must confess, I  _ am _ rather surprised that you allowed yourself to be caught.”

The Doctor pulled a surprised face. “Really? I’m amazed that you’re so stupid.”

The smile vanished from the goddess’s face.

“No,” the Doctor continued, oblivious to the woman’s anger, “I love being caught. Make a habit of it. Some people have made remarks about me having an affinity for handcuffs—though I can’t figure out what they were implying when they said it.” She smiled knowingly at the goddess. “I could tell they were implying something because they had such odd looks on their faces, and sometimes they winked.”

“Are you  _ always _ this talkative?” the goddess asked tentatively.

“I try to be,” the Doctor replied cheerily. “Sometimes it makes people give up, just to get me to stop. I love it when that happens.”

The goddess gave a short, harsh laugh. “You wish it could be that easy, don’t you?” she asked.

The Doctor returned her gaze steadily. “ _ You _ wish.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Listen,” she continued, “I don’t know what your vendetta against the Faurels is, but it’s time for you to leave them alone.”

The goddess raised her eyebrows at the Doctor. “Oh?” she asked. “And who’s going to stop me?” She stalked towards the Doctor. “You, my dear?”

A faint shadow of annoyance crossed the Doctor’s face. “Me.”

The goddess laughed merrily. “Of  _ course _ you are! I nearly forgot, forgive me. You like to think you’re  _ good _ .”

“Actions speak louder than words,” the Doctor murmured.

“Oh, and I’m  _ sure _ your actions are  _ always _ good.” The goddess’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I never said that.”

“No, but you think that. Or at least—” the goddess flicked an imaginary piece of dust off of her cape “—you strive for that.” She signed something at the guards, and they left the room.

“Are the guards deaf?” the Doctor asked suddenly.

“And why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m curious,” the Doctor replied.

The goddess rolled her eyes. “There must be an ulterior motive,” she said. “There’s  _ always _ an ulterior motive.”

“How do you know that?” the Doctor asked. “I mean, I’m a very curious person. I want to know more about just about everything.”

“I know you, Doctor,” the goddess stated flatly. “I know you better than you seem to realize.”

“How?” the Doctor asked, then stopped. “No. Wait. I’m getting sidetracked. We’ll get to that in a moment. Where are Ryan and Yaz?”

The goddess raised a single, arch eyebrow. “Are you really that  _ blin _ d?” she asked. “Do you really care for your friends so little?”

The Doctor opened her mouth, affronted, then closed it again. “If you say anything even close to that,” she hissed, her face contorted in anger, “I will personally see to it that your very existence is so bad that being erased from time and space would be a preference.”

The goddess smiled widely, just what the Doctor  _ didn’t _ want. “Oh, I like it when you get all angry and righteous,” she said. “You’ve completely bypassed mollycoddling and gone straight to threats. I do enjoy this.” She made a show of suddenly thinking of something. “Why, d’you know,” she exclaimed. “I thought you were supposed to be a _ good _ guy. Do good guys  _ usually  _ threaten the bad guys with unending torment? Forgive me, I’m rather new at this. You see,  _ I _ thought  _ I  _ was the good guy. Or at least, the guy with the ambiguous morals and a pretense of being good.”

“I do  _ not— _ ” the Doctor began to say, but she was cut off by a groan from the figure on the cushion in the corner.

“Doctor?” it said, its voice hoarse and weak, almost a whimper.

The Doctor recognized that voice. She rushed to the cushion, kneeling down beside it. “Yaz!” she cried out, her voice hushed. “What happened to you? Will you be alright?”

Yaz opened her eyes with effort, a thin crust of mucus falling from her lids. “You came for me,” she managed to whisper. “She said you wouldn’t. But you did. I knew you—you—” She was cut off by her own coughing. A drop of blood came up with the coughs. When she recovered, she smiled weakly. “I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

“How  _ touching _ ,” the goddess said. It sounded to the Doctor like she was gloating. “And how utterly, infinitely boring.”

The Doctor looked over her shoulder. “Leave Yaz alone. I don’t know half of what you’ve done to her, but I know it stops here.” She leaned down to give Yaz a hug, a gentle, safe hug, holding Yaz’s head to her shoulder. Her hand lingered on Yaz’s a moment longer, and then she gave a sad smile. “I’m so sorry, Yaz. I have to leave you alone now. I’ll still be here, don’t worry. I just have to talk to the goddess.” Her voice was soft.

She stood back up and walked over to the goddess’s throne, flopping down in it like she didn’t have a care in the world, a leg over one of the armrests. “Nice place you’ve got,” she said. She pulled a packet of peanuts out of her pocket and began to eat them. “Although it would look nicer if you didn’t destroy everything.”

“Would you deny me my life?” the goddess asked.

The Doctor shook her head. “Nah.” She swallowed a mouthful of peanuts. “Don’t change the subject.”

An odd smile crossed the goddess’s face. “I’m  _ not _ changing the subject,” she said slowly.

“What d’you mean, of course you’re changing the subject,” the Doctor replied.

The goddess shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not.” She paused. “You know, I didn’t realize you were so stupid. Your companions, well, they could be excused. But you…”

The Doctor leaned forward in her seat. “That’s me, I’m afraid,” she said, around a mouthful of peanuts. “Complete and total fool. A dunce of the highest class.” She gave a bright smile. “So how about you just tell me everything? I know you villains love your expositional monologues.”

The goddess grinned, and the Doctor saw that one of her front teeth had a crack running through it. “ _ You _ may be a fool, Doctor, but  _ I _ am not.”

“Oh, come on,” the Doctor complained. “I know you’re just aching to tell someone. So what’s your plan? How are you going to ruin this world?”

“I haven’t ruined this world, Doctor,” the goddess replied. “That’s what you and your friends keep getting wrong. I’ve improved it.”

The Doctor scrunched up her face, thinking for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah. Everyone’s dying, everyone’s going insane—you’re  _ torturing _ these people. That’s not an improvement. To be honest, Faure is the closest this universe has ever come to creating a paradise.”

The goddess rolled her eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “This world was  _ nothing _ before I came here. When I was sent here, they worshipped me. These are supposedly intelligent beings capable of space travel, and yet they worshipped me. They were almost  _ asking _ for me to take over.”

“From what I understand, they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter,” the Doctor replied. “I heard that you caused natural disasters and took away all of the oxygen for a short amount of time.”

The goddess laughed. “And yet they made me a goddess, rather than a demon.” She walked up to the Doctor, getting in her face. “This planet is mine, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me from keeping it.”

“Just a few more questions, then,” the Doctor said. “And then I’ll collect my friends and leave you to it.”

“You’re not leaving, Doctor,” the goddess said. “But I can grant you a few answers. Depending, of course, on what the questions are.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad we’re agreed.” The Doctor flashed a smile at the goddess. “First question: what’s a Berellian doing on Faure? I mean, how’d you even get here? You’re not exactly close. And the timelines are off.”

A look of surprise began to grow on the goddess’s face, an unbelieving, almost giddy, smile. “ _ You _ don’t know who I am?” she cried. “You think I’m a Berellian? Oh, Doctor, you surprise me with how little you actually know.”

The Doctor looked blank.

“Oh, Doctor,” the woman said, talking to her as if talking to a small child. “Here.” She grabbed the Doctor’s hand and held it against her breast. “Don’t you see? I’m like you. I’m a Time Lord.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe everyone reading this an apology over how long it took to get this chapter up. Suffice to say, life has kind of exploded on top of me and tomorrow I’m going to be dancing in my last-ever dance recital... with a broken tailbone. It’ll be fine.
> 
> Also, I kind of love writing the Doctor’s interactions with the goddess. As I wrote, there were certain moments where I was trying to figure out if the goddess was flirting with the Doctor? Idk. These characters have lives of their own and I have no say in what they’ll do.

    Ryan had come up with a plan. Or at least, a sort-of plan. He wasn’t much good at plans. Never liked chess. Even Graham could beat him. (And Graham was terrible at chess. Now his Nan had been a good chess player—she’d even won a few tournaments. But she didn’t like playing it all that much, because she found it boring.) But it was better than no plan at all.

    Or, he supposed it was better than no plan at all. Ryan had only just started seeing the values of having plans, only since he started travelling with the Doctor. There were so many things that could go wrong with the Doctor, completely accidentally. So Ryan had started trying to come up with plans. Not think so much on his feet. He was historically pretty bad at that.

    So he sat, alone in his prison cell, waiting for the chance to put his sort-of plan into action. He just needed a guard to come around.

    But it took a long time before any guards came back. Ryan was notoriously bad at keeping track of time, but he was fairly certain it had been hours before they came back. There was nothing for him to do but sit. And get hungrier. And more and more sore from the cold, hard ground.

    When, at last, a guard came to Ryan with a bowl of congealed food, he had succumbed to sitting in the corner and half-singing, half-humming “Party Rock Anthem” off-key. He was staring off into space, not quite in reality.

    In short, Ryan was bored out of his mind.

    Upon seeing the guard, it took Ryan a moment to reconnect to reality (which involved a widening of the eyes, a shutting of the mouth, and the ceasing of humming “Party Rock Anthem”) and realize that his moment of escape had come.

    And then he had to remember what his plan was. It had been awhile since he’d thought up his plan. And he hadn’t been able to write it down. In the end, he remembered, but it was almost too late. Almost.

    The guard bent down awkwardly, stiffly, almost like his weird uniform thing made it difficult to bend over or move. Ryan was forcibly reminded of the 1989 Batman movie, where Batman’s costume didn’t allow the actor to move his head around at all, and so he had to move his whole body to look anywhere. The only reason he’d watched that movie was because he liked Batman and his best mate Alfie had insisted it was a cinematic masterpiece. It really wasn’t.

    But that was distracting him from taking out the guard.

    Ryan stood up slowly, watching the guard set down the bowl of congealed, slimy gunk. It was like the stuff the goddess had given him to eat before, only cold. Ryan shuddered.

    He walked up behind the guard, taking extra care to be quiet. And then he remembered that the guards were all deaf. Oh, well. Didn’t hurt to be careful.

    There was some kind of stick in a holster around the guard’s waist. Ryan took it out slowly, carefully. The guard didn’t seem to notice, or maybe they just were having trouble moving out of that awkward position.

    It didn’t matter. Ryan brandished the stick and smacked it against the back of the guard’s head as hard as he could.

    Slowly, the guard toppled over forwards, face-first (or mask-first, Ryan wasn’t sure which was the correct word) into the bowl of food. There was a nasty squelching noise. It was something that would have shown up in a comedy action movie, like Austin Powers, but it wasn’t funny to Ryan. He pumped his fist in the air and let out a whispered “yeah!”

    He grabbed the guard’s helmet and pulled. It appeared to be stuck fast. Ryan awkwardly fumbled around, trying to find some sort of catch, or latch. Finally, his finger found a button on the front of the helmet, under the chin. He pushed it, and the helmet popped off easily, with a sound like decompression.

    The guard screamed.

    Ryan winced at the noise, but nearly threw up at what was underneath. Desiccated flesh the color of chalk protruded from the suit, gasping for air; large eyes stared out of an almost skeletal head.

    “What happened?” Ryan whispered, transfixed by the repulsive sight.

    The eyes turned to him, and the screaming died away. The two stared at one another. Finally, the person in the suit said, “That’s the first sound I’ve heard in eight years.”

    The voice was croaky and harsh from disuse, but clearly feminine. She continued, trembling. “The...the pain was not from the helmet coming off. The helmet coming off was the… the end of my pain. Thank you, Ryan.”

    “You know who I am?” Ryan asked. The revulsion was beginning to give way to pity. The nausea was staying, though.

    “Everyone knows… who you are,” she replied. “All of the… slaves of the goddess.” She took a shuddering breath. “They know of you… and of Yaz and the… Doctor and Graham. We know your names. And that you… represent a threat to… the goddess.”

    “Are you going to try and kill me?” Ryan asked. “Because no offense, but I’m pretty sure I can take you down. You’re pretty weak without the helmet.”

    She started to laugh, but it turned into hacking coughs. “I don’t want to kill you, Ryan,” she said, when the coughs had finally died down. “I want to help you. The others… are in pain, too. But the helmets…”

    “What about them?”

    “The goddess is… very talented at manipulation. At mental… manipulation.” She coughed again. “The helmets… block our natural defenses. She… took us and tortured us… and then, when she was tired of it… she put us in the suits and helmets. The suits… allow us to move normally. Many of us were crippled by her. The helmets ensure that… we do her bidding.”

    “I thought you lot were deaf,” Ryan said.

    She coughed. “Maybe some of us are,” she said. “But the helmets… block out all sound. They leave us… alone with our thoughts. And the goddess’s thoughts. And hers are… stronger.”

    “I was going to knock you out and steal your suit,” Ryan confessed. “I was gonna escape.” He looked down at the helmet, still in his hands. “Sorry. Guess I won’t.”

    “You can still escape, though,” she replied. “I have the keys to your cell. I’m incapacitated. The suit doesn’t work without the helmet. The goddess… doesn’t want her cripples running around without… mind control.”

    “I suppose that’s smart,” Ryan said, grudgingly. “Where are your keys?”

    “In my hand,” she replied. “Listen, I know you were... only thinking about yourself, but... before you go-”

    “What?”

    “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him, with her cracked lips.

    Ryan smiled back. “Yeah. I’m glad I could help you.” He reached out to take the keys from her hand, and—

    “Did you hear that?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

    “My hearing isn’t very good,” she replied. “You see… I couldn’t hear anything for… eight years.”

    “Fair enough,” said Ryan. “I just thought I—there it was again!”

    There was a definite _thumping_ noise against the stones making up the back wall.

    “But we’re… underground,” the guard said. Her large eyes rolled over to where the noise was coming from. “There’s only… dirt out there.”

    “You mean there _should_ only be dirt out there,” Ryan replied. “But there’s definitely something out there. Look, it’s moving the rock.”

    One of the larger stones was wiggling slightly, like someone was easing it out of its place. Ryan watched it intently. If this were a movie, it would be time for suspenseful music.

    The stone fell forward into the cell with a crash, and out popped… Graham’s head. He looked up, blinking in the light. When he saw Ryan, his frown of concentration melted into a relieved smile. “Ryan!” he exclaimed. “Funny seeing you here.”

 

—————

 

    The Doctor snatched her hand away from the goddess’s chest. “No,” she stated flatly. “You can’t be.”

    “Oh, but I _am_ ,” the goddess replied, grinning broadly. “I’m a Time Lord _and_ I’m a goddess! Turns out,” she added in a lower voice, as if sharing a secret, “if you undergo the correct procedures, your mental capacities increase exponentially. I mean, if you’re willing to go through with it, it really does turn you into someone worthy of worship.”

    “Does it also turn you insane?” the Doctor asked. Her hair was tucked messily behind her ear, and she was breathing hard.

    The goddess shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, my dear Doctor,” she said sweetly. “You see, I already was. Insane, that is.” She paused. “Although I suppose I was also already worthy of worship before they recruited me…”

    “Ah-ha!” The Doctor shoved her finger in the goddess’s face. “You were recruited! So. Who recruited you? The CIA? Is this one of their less-than-legal dealings?”

    The goddess rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ I was recruited. Do you think they hand out unheard of mental powers to just _anyone_ who wants them?” She put on a high-pitched, mocking voice. “‘ _Do you accept walk-ins_ ?’” She rolled her eyes. “No, I was chosen for this project because of my past history.” She laughed. “I love how Time Lords are supposed to be _outside_ of Time, and yet they let their whole lives be dictated by _history_. I mean, that has to be the sweetest of stupidities.”

    “But who recruited you?”

    “Now that _would_ be telling, wouldn’t it?” the goddess replied. “But it isn’t the CIA, don’t worry about that. The CIA wouldn’t recruit me, anyway. I like too much chaos. I’d be too much of a _risk_ . My recruiters, though… They _revel_ in chaos.”

    “And your plan?” the Doctor asked. “Or their plan?”

    The goddess shrugged. “I don’t have one. I’m just here until I get bored, or until I get orders from my recruiters. I kept telling Yaz that, but she didn’t believe me. She thinks that I _must_ have a plan because I’m an evil villain. I must applaud you, Doctor: you brainwashed her _very_ well.”

    The Doctor didn’t reply. She didn’t even look like she was listening. Instead, her brow creased, and she was muttering something to herself.

    “Oh, so _you’re_ insane, too?” the goddess asked. “You’d be a _perfect_ candidate for my… employers.”

    The Doctor looked up, looked the goddess straight in the eyes. “You’re a Time Lord.”

    The goddess sighed. “We’ve already been over this,” she said, as if she were talking to a small child. “ _Yes_ , I am a _Time Lord_. Thirteen lives. The ability to regenerate my physical form. Two hearts, respiratory bypass system, telepathic. The works.”

    “And you think you’re a goddess.”

    “I don’t _think_ I’m a goddess, I _know_ I am.”

    “Are you one of the ancient Gallifreyan goddesses?”

    The goddess took a step back from the Doctor and clapped slowly. “Brava, Doctor. You finally figured it out. I was told that you’re _intelligent_ . Usually, intelligent people figure things out a _little_ bit faster. I must have heard a false report.”

    “But which goddess are you?” the Doctor asked, ignoring the comments. “You can’t be Death, you look _nothing_ like her. And your voice is too… evil villain-y.”

    The goddess flicked an imaginary piece of dust from her cape and placed a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. There was no trace of a smile on her face. “I’m Pain, Doctor. It’s a _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance.”

    She pressed her hand against the Doctor’s neck and smiled softly, dangerously. “I think it’s time you found out what I can really do.”

    The Doctor gasped, eyes watering, vision swimming, as waves of pain racked her body. She fell to her knees. As it subsided, she looked up at the goddess, at Pain, looked her in the eyes. “Oh, come on,” she said, breathing hard. “You can do better than that.”

    “Oh, I haven’t even started,” Pain replied. And as the Doctor screamed, she laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update? Only a week after the last one? It seems I can do it, after all!

    “What’re you doing here, Gramps?” Ryan asked. He didn’t even bother trying to keep the shock out of his voice, and his eyes were so wide that he was sure they were bugging out of his skull.

    “I could ask you the same—could you give me a hand?”

    Ryan grabbed Graham’s outstretched hand and pulled him the rest of the way through the hole, into the cell.

    “Ah,” said Graham, dusting himself off. “Thanks. Now what are _you_ doing here, Ryan?”

    “I asked first,” Ryan replied, cracking a smile. There was a moment of silence, and then the two men hugged each other tightly. Ryan thought back to when he first started traveling with the Doctor. If someone had told him that he would end up loving Graham this much, he would have laughed at them. Or possibly gotten annoyed at them. He could tell that Graham had missed him just as much.

    “Who’s your friend?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

    Ryan broke off the hug to look back at the hole in the cell. Through it had clambered another person, a young man a little shorter than him, with wide eyes and a good-natured face. He was looking straight at Ryan as he spoke, but it was clear that he was speaking to Graham.

    “Right,” said Graham, turning to face the young man. “This is my grandson, Ryan. Ryan, this is a new friend of mine, Tam. He’s one of the good guys.”

    Tam walked up to Ryan and clasped his shoulder quickly. “Nice to meet you,” he said, with a grin so fast that Ryan almost missed it entirely. “Graham’s been very worried about you the whole time. Been proper angry at the Doctor because she wanted to come up with a plan before blundering in to rescue you and your other friend.”

    Ryan glanced at Graham, who shrugged apologetically.

    “Normally, I’d say the Doctor’s plan is smarter,” said Ryan. “I know I usually go blundering in without a plan,” he added, before Graham could say anything, “but that isn’t the smartest way to do stuff.”

    “The Doctor’s plan is _normally_ smarter?” Graham asked, prompting him.

    “Yeah. But Gramps, you’ve got to see—we need to help her—” Ryan’s voice suddenly cracked, and he realized he couldn’t continue unless he was willing to cry in front of random strangers.

    “It’s… your other friend.” The guard picked up where he left off.

    Graham jumped, took one look at the guard, and looked like he was about to throw up. “Who’re _you_?” he asked.

    “My name is—was—is Miren,” she replied. “I was one of the... guards for the goddess. Until Ryan managed to... take off my helmet.”

    “Miren?” Tam asked suddenly.

    She turned her head slowly to look at him. “Forgive me,” she said. “I cannot see… very well. Do I know you?”

    He shook his head. “It’s not important.” He paused for a moment, then sighed. “What’s going on with their friend?”

    “She was tortured…” Miren said. “Extensively. The goddess viewed her as… a plaything. And the goddess… loves torture.” She turned to Ryan. “You need… to go. Save… Yaz. Go to the throne room and… destroy the throne. It will unseal the planet.”

    “And how did you know that?” Graham asked skeptically.

    “I did repairs on it… two weeks ago,” Miren replied. “Something got through the planet’s barriers. Your ship.”

    “Oh, but that’s just because the Doctor flies a TARDIS,” Ryan said quickly. “It can go anywhere. Doesn’t matter if the planet is sealed or not. Whatever that means, anyway,” he added in an undertone.

    “A TARDIS?” Miren focused on him, her large eyes boring a hole into his skull. At least, that’s what it felt like.

    He nodded.

    “I have heard that word before,” she muttered, and her eyes shut. Ryan wondered if she was maybe delirious. She had to be in pain. But then her eyes flew open again. “The goddess spoke... of a TARDIS.” She nodded slowly. “Her ship from the… heavens. Bigger on the inside…. than the outside. Her bone… TARDIS.”

    “So the goddess is a Time Lord? Like the Doctor?” Graham said.

    “Ohhhh,” said Ryan, smacking himself on the forehead. “It makes sense now.”

    “What does?””

    “Literally everything the goddess said to me,” Ryan replied. “Of course she would talk about how she knows the Doctor, and call me stupid for not knowing half of what she’s talking about. The Doctor’s nice, but way smarter than any of us. And this goddess is a bitch. So it would make sense that she’s a Time Lord, because she’s as smart as the Doctor, and talks about knowing the Doctor, but is actually evil and rude.”

    “I think I follow your logic,” said Tam suddenly, tearing his gaze from Miren long enough to speak to Ryan. “But I also think we need to stop wasting time and get to the throne room. Miren?”

    “Hmm?” Her voice was weak.

    “I’m guessing she’s set up shop in one of the terrace lounges. East or west?”

    She smiled slightly, cracked lips revealing blackened teeth. “East. You’re quick, aren’t you? Reminds me of my little brother—but he’s dead now, probably.”

    He nodded. “A lot of people died.” There was silence, and then he cleared his throat. “Ryan, get us out of the cell and I can lead the way to the throne room.”

    Ryan quickly unlocked the cell door, and he, Graham, and Tam began making their way through the rabbit warren of a palace.

    “How do you know your way around?” Graham asked.

    Tam shrugged. “This is where the Celestial Family Art Convention was held. I was too young to remember it, but my parents got jobs as curators for this place afterwards. It was turned into a museum, sort of.”

    They walked in silence for some time, the endless corridors almost suspiciously empty. Ryan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Was their luck just so good that they hadn’t run into any guards? Or was there some sort of trap for them? Ryan realized that he still didn’t know if he could trust Miren. After all, he had trusted the goddess, and that was partially why they were in this mess.

    “So, Granddad,” he said, trying to keep himself from getting too paranoid. “How did you get into my cell?”

    Graham opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Tam and I were—”

    “How did you even meet him?”

    “Oh. Oh, right.” Graham looked a bit embarrassed. “The Doctor and I accidentally stumbled onto the last native people on the planet. The last non-insane people, I mean.”

    “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

    “You’ve missed out on most of the infodump,” Graham said. He almost sounded jealous. “The people on this planet go crazy if their art is destroyed.”

    “That’s… a really insensitive way of putting it,” Tam said, looking at them over his shoulder.

    “Oh.” Graham winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know—I was just trying to go quickly…”

    “Yeah, I get it,” Tam replied. “And you’re not native to this world and we’re under stress and all that. Just a reminder for in the future.”

    “Is that why the guard—Miren—is that why she was going on to me about natural mental defense whatsits?” Ryan asked. “You lot have different mental abilities than us humans, so doing stuff like art affects you differently.”

    Tam nodded. “Basically.”

    “As I was saying,” said Graham, probably a little louder than he had intended. “Tam is one of the last people on the planet to not have had his art destroyed. There’s about fifty of them. And the Doctor and I found them and were hiding out with them. Several hours ago—”

    “Closer to two days, actually,” Tam interrupted.

    “Alright, two days,” Graham agreed. “Two days ago the Doctor and a couple others went to retrieve stuff from the TARDIS and they left the rest of us in their bunker. Tam was showing me his sculpture—which, by the way, is absolutely amazing, Tam. Really gorgeous.”

    “Thanks.”

    “Anyway, we discovered a loose panel in the wall in that room, and there was a tunnel leading out from it. And we had nothing better to do because we were still waiting on the Doctor and the others to come back with equipment from the TARDIS, so we went exploring in the tunnel. This is where it came out.”

    “That’s a really weird coincidence,” said Ryan.

    “I’m not going to question it,” said Graham. “It brought me to you, and I got to see that you’re safe.”

    “No one is safe, Gramps,” Ryan said bitterly. “I just didn’t get hurt.” He was about to say something else, but he heard a distant noise. “What’s that?” he asked quickly, lowering his voice.

    Tam halted. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “But it sounds like screaming.” He glanced back at them. “I think it’s coming from the throne room. We’re almost there now.”

    “Did Miren lead us into a trap?” Graham asked, his voice a loud whisper.

    Tam shook his head. “No. She wouldn’t have done that. I knew Miren… before. She wouldn't betray us—betray _me_ —to the goddess.”

    “There’s only one way of finding out who’s screaming,” said Ryan. “And that’s to go to the throne room. If it’s Yaz, I swear I’m gonna _kill_ the goddess, I don’t give a f-”

    “You’re not going to kill anyone,” said Graham sternly. “And you’re gonna watch your language.”

    “Granddad, she’s _evil_ ,” Ryan protested. “You haven’t seen what she’s done to Yaz. If you had, you’d kill her, too.”

    “Is Yaz your sister?” Tam asked. He looked confused.

    Ryan shook his head. “No. Just a friend. We all travel together. She’s always got a clear head and she always knows what to say. She’s a little bit bossy, but not nearly as much as the Doctor. She’s a bit like a sister to me, I guess, but we’re not actually siblings.” He sighed heavily. “And the goddess has gone and tortured her so badly that if she isn’t dead already, she will be soon.”

    They didn’t speak much after that, instead edging their way closer and closer to the throne room. The screaming wasn’t continuous, and sometimes it sounded like two people were screaming, or like a different person had started screaming. Ryan hoped neither of those people was Yaz. Finally, they reached the doorway to the throne room. It was a side doorway, out of the way and unguarded. Ryan still couldn’t see any guards. He wondered where they’d gone. If they weren’t guarding the goddess, who—or what—were they guarding?

    He grabbed Tam’s arm and pulled him back. “I’m the only one who’s supposed to even be in the palace,” he whispered. “You and Graham are in more danger than me. I’ve talked to her before. Let me handle this.”

    Tam nodded, but looked skeptical. Graham looked more than skeptical, but he stepped back and nodded, crossing his arms. Ryan couldn’t tell if it was an angry arms-crossing or a reluctant-but-ultimately-proud arms-crossing. His granddad did both on a relatively frequent basis.

    Ryan peered around the corner, trying his best to be unnoticeable.

    The throne room was just as Ryan remembered it: large, spacious, cold. The glass wall behind the throne showed the darkening, starless sky. Directly in front of the throne stood the Doctor. Her jaw was tense, her hands were clenched in fists, and she looked down on the goddess, who was hunched on the floor. The screams faded, and now only whimpering remained; the whimpering of the goddess.

    “You thought you could hurt me,” the Doctor was saying, talking almost through her teeth. “You wanted to hurt me. Wanted me as your next plaything?”

    “Please… stop…” the goddess mumbled. “I’ll go, I’ll leave, I’ll—”

    “You can’t restore Yaz back to her full health, so what’s the point?” the Doctor said. “And Rassilon knows what you’ve done to Ryan.” She knelt down, and lifted up the goddess’s chin with her finger, forcing the goddess to look her in the eyes. “You hurt my friends. You hurt me. So now you have to deal with me.”

    The goddess was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, but she met the Doctor with a cool stare. “You—” she winced, apparently in pain. “You’re even better than I expected.” She shuddered, her head wrenching back, and a scream escaped her lips. When she recovered, she met the Doctor’s gaze once more. “As soon as I learned you were here… I wanted to… to break you,” she said. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “And I did.”

    “You haven’t done anything,” the Doctor replied, standing back up. “You failed, Pain. You didn’t get me.”

    “Ah,” said the goddess, still somehow sounding victorious. “But look at you, my dear. I got you. You’re just… just like me.”

    “I am _not_ ,” the Doctor replied furiously. “I’m saving people. You were _torturing_ them for fun.”

“No, Doctor,” the goddess said. “That’s what you keep getting wrong. I need pain to survive. I am the _goddess_ of pain. I am Pain incarnate. Pain is my food; it gives me strength.” She suddenly stood up, in one fluid motion. “And you’ve been hurting me.”

The Doctor looked taken aback.

Pain mirrored the Doctor’s action, using a long, white finger to force the Doctor to meet her gaze. “All you’ve done just now is made me stronger.”


	16. Chapter 16

The goddess grabbed the Doctor by the wrist and dragged her out of the room through the main entrance. Ryan saw guards by that entrance, but they were slumped to the ground, like they were sleeping. What was going on? And why was the TARDIS by the main entrance?

“I think it’s safe to come out now,” Ryan whispered as soon as the goddess was out of sight. “She’s gone.”

”Who was with her?” Tam asked, peeking out from around the corner. He walked into the room, still wary.

“That was the Doctor,” Ryan said grimly. “I don’t know what I just saw, but it wasn't good.”

Tam turned back to look at him. “Then we should get started on her throne thing,  shouldn’t we?”

”Yeah. S’pose so,” Ryan muttered. They walked over to the throne; a large, dark affair. Very gothic. Ryan couldn’t see any place for wiring or devices, and for a moment, he began to worry again that Miren had betrayed them.

But Tam began running his hands over the throne, searching for something. Ryan wondered what, but then realized that he should probably help look for whatever it was that Tam was looking for.

He went around to the back of the throne and began looking for something, anything that could be out of the ordinary. He ran his fingers over the cracks and crevices, still unsure what it would turn out to be.

“And what should I do?” Graham asked.

“Uhh,” said Ryan, still focusing on what he was doing. “Uh.” He looked up. “You can keep watch?” He looked at Tam, who nodded. “Yeah. Keep watch.”

Graham shrugged, but he looked faintly annoyed. Like he wanted to argue, but also didn’t want to make any noise for fear of attracting attention.

“Hey, Tam?” Ryan asked.

“Did you find something?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Ryan pointed out a small wire poking out through a crack, almost beneath the throne. “Think this might be what Miren was talking about?”

Tam sucked in his breath through his teeth. It created a strange noise, almost like a pop. “It might be,” he replied, bending down and inspecting it himself. “Come on, let’s try to pry this throne off the floor. We might find more stuff to work with if we can get it up.”

“Sounds good,” said Ryan. “Gramps!” he called.

“Keep your voice down!”

“Any sign of anyone yet?” 

“No thanks to you,” Graham replied shortly. Ryan wondered if Graham was in a bad mood or if he was just terrified for his life, or if he was maybe worried for him. Or maybe a combination of the three.

“Alright, that’s good.” Ryan grabbed the arm of the throne. “Tam, you can get the other arm. On the count of three. One, two—”

“Wait, are we pulling when you say three or after you say three?” Tam asked. “I always seem to get it wrong.”

“I get what you mean,” Ryan sympathized. “Same thing happens to me all the time. Um, I’ll say ‘one, two, three, go,’ and we’ll pull when I say go.”

Tam nodded, watching Ryan closely. He had a very intense gaze.

“One, two, three, go!” said Ryan, and they pulled.

The throne came up surprisingly easily. Had it not been fastened to the floor securely? Or maybe it hadn’t been secured at all? A quick look revealed that the wood making up the base of the throne was rotting.

“So d’you think the goddess just liked rotten wood?” Ryan asked, trying to make a feeble joke.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Tam replied, completely serious. “I mean—” he glanced up at Ryan. “Oh. You were joking. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” said Ryan, embarrassed. “It wasn’t a funny joke, anyway.”

Tam smiled weakly. “I’m not used to jokes. Haren doesn’t really approve of them. I get why; I mean, things just keep getting worse here. I just mean—well, I probably wouldn’t realize you’re making a joke even if it’s the funniest joke in the world.”

“That’s depressing,” said Ryan.

Tam shrugged. “I was a kid when the goddess came. I’m used to it.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “Come on, let’s see if we can get this planetary seal shut down.”

They crouched down behind the throne together, looking at the mass of wires. There was a small metal box sitting atop it all, covered in switches and buttons. Most of them were unlabeled.

“This is sort of useless,” said Ryan. “Since neither of us know what to do to fix any of this.”

“I have a suggestion,” said Tam. “We could just pull out whatever wires we can, effectively disconnecting this metal controller thing from the wires. And maybe destroying a few important wires in the process.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Ryan admitted. “At least, it sounds good to me. But I’m the TARDIS idiot, so there’s a very big chance that it’s actually a bad idea and I’m just too stupid to notice it.”

Tam looked at him strangely. “What do you mean? You don’t seem like an idiot to me.” He immediately looked down, becoming very interested in the wires.

Ryan shrugged. “I dunno. I’m always the one who says the stupid stuff, you know? And I rush into stuff without thinking about any of it. Sometimes I worry that the others make fun of me when I’m not there. I mean,” he continued, struggling to disconnect a wire. “I mean, I’m the one with dyspraxia, and I always had trouble getting good grades in school. I mean, Yaz knows what she’s doing with her life. She has plans. I’m just the bloke with a coordination disorder and no plans for anything.”

“But you’re the one who’s survived this far without getting tortured horribly,” Tam said. He sounded confused.

“Well… yeah,” said Ryan reluctantly. “But I don’t know what I’m doing at all. I accidentally told the goddess all about the Doctor and Graham. The goddess probably has the TARDIS because of what I told her.”

“What do you mean?”

Ryan pointed around the throne to the TARDIS. “That’s our TARDIS. Well, the Doctor’s. It’s how we travel. I told the goddess where we landed, and she probably got it from there.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Tam. He pulled a handful of wires out from where they were connected to the box, and sparks flew. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve been hanging out with Graham this entire time, and he’s talked all about you and Yaz. He loves you, Ryan. He was angry at the Doctor. Almost wasn’t speaking to her because he was so mad. He thought she wasn’t paying enough attention to you and Yaz. He speaks so highly of you. And so did the Doctor.”

Ryan managed a smile. “Seriously?”

Tam met his eyes. “Seriously.” He grabbed the metal box and pulled as hard as he could. Sparks flew everywhere, and a small light in the corner of the box began flashing. “Oh,” he said, sounding mildly surprised. “D’you think that’s a bad sign?”

“Probably,” said Ryan.

A cool, tinny female voice came out of the box.  _ Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in five spans. Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in five spans. _

There was silence for a moment. Then Ryan began to laugh. It was an almost hysterical giggle, and Tam watched him with a vaguely concerned expression on his face.

“Sorry,” Ryan managed to choke out, and then he began shaking with peals of giggles again. A tear ran down his cheek from his laughter.

“We’re going to blow up my planet,” Tam said slowly, “and you’re laughing about it.”

Ryan immediately stopped laughing. Or, as quickly as he could, at least. It’s very difficult to stop laughing immediately. “Sorry,” he said again, this time more seriously. “I just… You know, everything’s been so crazy… I don’t know, it just was…” He gave up trying to explain it.

“No, I understand,” said Tam quickly. “Stress and adrenaline can make people do strange things.”

“I guess,” said Ryan. He looked around, the box still issuing its warning. “Where’s Graham?” he finally asked. “He should be around here somewhere.”

“More to the point, where’s everyone?” Tam added. “The goddess took the Doctor somewhere, and now Graham is gone. Was he taken prisoner, maybe?”

Ryan shook his head. “Nah. Look—the guards are still there.”

“Then where did he go?”

“I dunno,” Ryan said, trying to shrug nonchalantly. He tried not to think about how he had just been reunited with his granddad, and now they were separated again.

“Also,” said Tam, who looked like he was starting to hyperventilate a little. “How long is a span? How much time do we have?”

“Not enough.”

Tam and Ryan spun around at the voice; new for Tam, familiar for Ryan. The goddess stood in the doorway, a satisfied smile on her face. It scared Ryan. There was no good reason for the goddess to be smiling. It meant something bad had happened, or was about to happen.

“I want to thank you, Ryan,” the goddess continued. She wasn’t moving, which surprised him. In his experience, she liked getting up close and personal. 

“What for?” he asked warily.

She waved a hand, almost lazily. “Oh, you know. Escaping from your cell. How very enterprising of you. Did you know, you actually surprised me? You and Yaz and the Doctor have been so  _ boring _ , it quite put me off. But now…” she paused, leveling her gaze at him. “You were the most boring, Ryan. You really were. But now I have to rethink my whole system for measuring how boring someone is.”

“You have a system for that?” Ryan asked, incredulous.

The goddess laughed, but Ryan thought she sounded tired. Could she get tired? He didn’t know. He’d never seen her tired. “Of course I have a system for that, Ryan, my dear,” she said. “My entire life is based off of what  _ isn’t _ boring to me at the moment. If I don’t have a system for it, it would be very… what’s the word… remiss of me.”

“Is this what she’s always like?” Tam whispered.

“Yeah,” Ryan muttered back.

The goddess slowly turned her head to look at Tam. It would have been comical, had she been a little less frightening. “Oh?” she said slowly. “Who’s this?”

_ Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in four spans. Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in four spans. _

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ryan quickly, and the goddess’s eyes slid back to him, as if Tam didn’t even exist. “What matters is that we get out of here before we die.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, I’m afraid,” the goddess declared. Her words were beginning to slur together. Ryan wondered if goddesses could get drunk.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

The goddess spread her hands wide. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll all be dead in—I don’t know—3.87 spans, I think.” She took a step forward, stumbling slightly. She blinked. “What’s happening?” She asked, sounding much more alert.

“I—I don’t know,” Ryan admitted. He wasn’t sure why he was answering her sympathetically. Oh, God, did he have Stockholm Syndrome? Wait, no. He still hated the goddess. He just was confused by her strange behavior.

She took another stumbling step forward, leaning heavily on the wall. “I don’t—understand,” she said, breathing heavily.

“Me neither, mate,” said Ryan. “But, uh, since you’re sort of busy, and we’re all going to die anyway, I think I’m just gonna leave you there and maybe—uh—take a break. See ya later!” He beckoned for Tam to follow him and fished in his pocket for the TARDIS key. He hadn’t actually checked to see if it was still in there after all of the stuff that had happened, but to his surprise, it was. He suddenly realized that he’d been wearing the same clothes the entire time he had been on the planet. Gross. He hoped he didn’t smell too bad.

He opened up the TARDIS door and pulled Tam in behind him, making sure he shut the door quickly.

“You’ve finally joined the party,” said a familiar voice.

Ryan spun around and came face-to-face with Graham. And behind him were four strangers, all with stern, severe expressions on their faces. And even further back, behind all of that, slumped up against the roundelled wall, was Yaz.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of suicide and child abuse.  
> Also, Yaz is still hurt so have fun with that.

Ryan pushed past Graham and the four strangers. He’d question them in due time. Right now, he had to make sure Yaz was alright. He knew the TARDIS had a medical wing, maybe he could take her there. He didn’t even register the fact that the others were watching him.

“Yaz!” Ryan cried, kneeling down next to her. 

She opened her eyes slowly, with difficulty. “Ryan,” she whispered. “You’re safe, too.” 

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “But how did you get here?”

With what appeared to be a great effort, Yaz shrugged. “The Doctor gave me—” Her voice broke off as she coughed weakly. Instead of continuing to speak, she unclenched her fist, revealing a key to the TARDIS. “The Doctor gave it to me,” she whispered. “And then she… distracted the goddess.”

“And you got into the TARDIS?” Ryan finished. He looked her up and down, concerned. “How? You can’t even hold your head up.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “You don’t know that,” she whispered. Ryan could tell that it was supposed to be a joke, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile. She was so… weak. “But,” she continued, obviously straining to make her voice audible, “you’re right. I can’t really hold my head up.”

“Then how did you get in? How did you even find the TARDIS?”

“The goddess brought me to—to the throne room.” She coughed weakly. “And I was right next to the TARDIS when it was brought in. And the Doctor gave me a key.”

“The goddess just let her?” Ryan asked, incredulous.

“She didn’t know,” Yaz replied. Somehow her tone managed to show how annoyed she was, despite the fact that she could barely make any noise at all. “The Doctor gave me a hug and slipped the key into my hand.”

“Oh.” Ryan wasn’t sure what else to say. Then he remembered that she was incredibly hurt. “Hey, should we get you to the medical wing in the TARDIS? Or to your room or something?”

“I’d like to get to my room,” Yaz whispered. Her eyes were starting to close. “That’s where I was heading, but I just couldn’t go any farther.”

“Shh,” Ryan whispered. “I’ll get you to your room. Just a second.” He tried to be calm, reassuring. The exact opposite of how he was feeling. How badly had Yaz been hurt? Was there anything he could even help with? Was she going to die?

Ryan wished his Nan could be here. She would have known what to do. She would have stayed calm and gotten Yaz the medical attention she needed. Nan was a nurse, she knew how to take care of injuries.

Instead, he turned to Graham. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you helped Yaz?”

Graham opened his mouth, like he was about to speak and make some excuse, then closed it again. He looked uncomfortable. Finally, he replied. “I was trying to find out why this lot was in the TARDIS.”

“Oh. Right.” Ryan looked around at the four strangers, finally noticing them for the first time. “That was probably pretty smart. Who are they?”

One of them, an older woman with a protective arm around Tam’s shoulders, stepped forward. “I am Haren,” she said. “We are friends of Graham and the Doctor. Your friend the Doctor advised us to hide in here.”

Ryan looked from the woman to Graham. “Is that true?”

“That’s what she told me,” Graham replied. He sounded grumpy. “Of course, the Doctor didn’t let me in on any of her plans, so I didn’t know that any of this had happened. But yeah, that’s Haren. I think she’s trustworthy.”

“You  _ think _ ,” said Tam, his voice rising dangerously. “Haren isn’t just trustworthy, she’s—”

“Fine, we can trust her,” said Ryan quickly, cutting Tam off. “Sorry, but isn’t the planet gonna blow up? And Yaz is almost dead.” He beckoned to Tam, who apologetically left Haren’s side. “Who’s the strongest of your lot?” he asked.

“Uh,” said Tam. “Me, probably.”

Ryan nodded. “Alright. Come on, let’s get Yaz to the medbay. Help me carry her, and I’ll lead the way.”

Tam looked back at Haren, who nodded. Ryan wondered why. What was so special about the older woman? Why did Tam need her approval? He didn’t have time to find out any answers.

Graham grabbed his arm before he could begin picking Yaz up. “What’s going on?” he asked. “The planet’s gonna blow up?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan hurriedly. “Me and Tam accidentally set the atmosphere to ignite in, I dunno, a few minutes? It said five spans when we started it. I don’t know how long a span is, though.”

“Oh, well,” said Graham, crossing his arms. “Now that we’ve got that sorted out.” He turned to Haren. “I feel so much better now, don’t you?”

Haren stared at him. Her lined face slowly wrinkled into a look somewhat similar to disgust.

“Sorry,” Graham muttered. “Poor time for a joke, I s’pose.”

Ryan and Tam carefully navigated their way out of the now-crowded console room, trying their very best not to bump into any of the strange rocklike formations. The corridor was similar in style to the console room; its walls were roundelled in a calm blue, and between the roundels the wall appeared to be crystalline, quartzlike. A soft, golden glow suffused the corridor from a hidden source. Ryan could hardly believe how calm it seemed. After the past days—week—well, however long it was, it seemed almost eerie. Like something bad would happen and give Ryan a really bad jump scare.

“So, uh,” said Ryan, trying to fill in the heavy silence. “Who’s that Haren woman?”

Tam started, like he’d been lost in thought. “She’s our leader,” he said quietly. “The one who has been keeping us safe all this time. She’s a bit like a mother to me, although she’s a lot harsher than my mother was.”

“Oh.” Ryan was quiet for a moment. He wanted to ask about Tam’s parents, what happened to them, but he didn’t know how he could do so tactfully. He knew firsthand what it was like to have awkward questions volleyed at you from well-meaning but totally annoying people.

But Tam seemed to recognize the unspoken question. “My mother and father died,” he explained. He didn’t sound annoyed, or angry, or upset. He was calm. Resigned, maybe. “Same as almost everyone else. When the goddess first started taking power, there were random raids on houses. My parents weren’t expecting it. No one was, not then. I was young enough that I hadn’t really figured out what I wanted to do. I was playing a musical instrument at the time, but I wasn’t much good at it. My heart wasn’t in it. So I escaped the raid unscathed.”

“And your parents were killed?” Ryan asked softly.

Tam shook his head. “No one killed them,” he said quietly. “They went crazy. My father was a horticulturalist. They destroyed his gardens and his greenhouse. My mother was a sculptor. They destroyed everything she ever created. It… drove them insane.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Ryan, unsure what to say.

“It isn’t your fault, Ryan,” Tam quickly replied. “You weren’t there, you couldn’t have known about it. My parents eventually killed themselves. Tried to take me with them.”

“What?”

“I have a scar up my back,” Tam explained. “It’s from my parents. I got out of the house, though, and away from the guards. My older sister wasn’t so lucky. She didn’t wake up until after our parents died. The guards took her. I didn’t know what happened to her.”

“That’s horrible,” Ryan said, wishing he could find better words to describe how he was feeling. He thought  _ his _ life had been pretty bad, but at least his mum and nan had loved him. At least he had Graham. At least he and his dad were working on patching things up. Tam didn’t have anyone. Not parents, not his sister, not any family. Just that Haren woman.

Tam visibly swallowed. “You—you learn to live with it,” he said. “I was taken in by a man named Mekken and his wife, and after the attempted rebellion I went off with Haren.”

“I met a bloke called Mekken,” said Ryan. “Was he the same person, or is that a common name?”

“Possibly the same person,” Tam replied. “We’re almost extinct now. Chances of it being the same Mekken are staggeringly high.” He sighed. “Mekken turned out to be working for the goddess. He told her about the rebellion beforehand. She managed to capture almost all the key people in it before it could actually start. For that, Haren left.”

“What?” Ryan felt like he was missing something.

Tam gave him an odd look. “Haren left Mekken. They were married. That’s how I know her.”

Ryan almost dropped Yaz. “ _ Seriously? _ ” he cried, almost shouting.

“Yes?” Tam said, his voice raising like a question. “Are you alright, Ryan?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Ryan said quickly. “It doesn’t actually have anything to do with me, it doesn’t even have any bearing on what’s going on here, I just didn’t see that one coming. Plot twist.” He turned sharply into a large doorway. “We’re here, by the way. The nurse’s office. The sickroom. The  _ medbay _ , if we want to sound like the Doctor.”

“Do you not like the term ‘medbay,’ then?” Tam asked.

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t really care. It just sounds too sci-fi for me to be able to take it seriously. This whole time travel thing is just like being in a sci-fi show.”

It was clear from the look on Tam’s face that he had no idea what Ryan was talking about, but Ryan didn’t notice, because he was too busy getting Yaz onto a bed.

Yaz managed to turn her head slightly, so that she was facing Ryan. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

Ryan looked over at Tam. “That’s a friend, Yaz,” he replied. “Just get some rest, okay? I’ll find the Doctor and send her in to help you. I don’t know what any of this is.”

She smiled slightly. It looked painful. “Thanks, Ryan. You got me out.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but that was all you. I was sort of useless.” He patted her hand awkwardly, and then left the room, Tam close behind.

 

—————

 

The goddess was having trouble. She was having trouble standing, trouble seeing, trouble walking, trouble speaking. Even if she could get to her throne, it looked like it was overturned. Which would make sense, if those fools had managed to set off her doomsday device.

The cool, female voice continued to count down the microspans to Faure’s imminent destruction. The goddess might have been able to make out the words, too, but her ears were ringing.

She sat down heavily, not caring that it was on the dirty floor. Why couldn’t she just  _ focus _ ? What was going on with her? 

It worried her more than she wanted to admit. It also irked her, because she knew she could still fix everything, if she could just be in control of her full mental and physical capacities. But she was having trouble even remembering her own name, and her head was spinning even though she was now sitting. And she hadn’t even  _ touched _ any ginger beer.

She decided to lay down. It would make her head stop spinning, hopefully. And then she could figure out what to do.

Was that footsteps that she heard? Or was it just her mind playing tricks on her? Sometimes it did that. It was one of the downsides of the experimentation she had allowed to be done on herself. Vastly increased mental abilities came side by side with near-crippling paranoia.

She shut her eyes for a moment, but the sound of footsteps continued, somehow breaking through the ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes again.

Her vision was still blurry, but she could make out the figure of a woman. “What… d’you want?” the goddess asked blearily. She didn’t know if her words were even understandable.

“Hello, there,” said the woman. Her voice sounded familiar. Annoying. And it cut straight through the ringing in her ears. “You look like you’re in a bad way, don’t you?”

“Doctor?” the goddess asked.

“And the prize for most useless observation goes to Pain,” the Doctor said, her voice full of fake enthusiasm. She leaned over the goddess. “Guess what? It’s just you and me now. All by ourselves, with a doomsday device counting down.”

“I… don’t-”

The Doctor leaned even closer. “I think it’s time for us to face each other equally. Just the two of us. And between you and me?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I think you should be very,  _ very _ afraid.”


	18. Chapter 18

The Doctor watched as the goddess struggled into a sitting position. She wished she could look at the woman coldly, impassively, but she knew it was no good. Something had ignited in her when she saw Yaz, a sort of fire she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since… well, not since the Time War. She couldn’t look cold or impassive, not when the rage was burning so hot in her stomach. Not when she couldn’t even look at the goddess without wanting to inflict the pain that the woman was so obsessed with.

“You wouldn’t h-” the goddess coughed, her eyes sliding out of focus for a moment and then refocusing on the Doctor’s face. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Do you really want to bet on that?” the Doctor asked tightly.

The goddess coughed again, phlegm rattling in her throat. “You’re the Doctor,” she said, her words slurring together. “You… don’t hurt people. You think you’re good.”

The Doctor set her mouth in a thin line. “I try to be good,” she said shortly. “Maybe that means I’ll have to kill you. For the good of everyone else in the universe.” She tried not to be too disgusted with herself as she spoke.

She remembered what she had been thinking about as she walked the cold, dead fields with Graham. All killing was evil. Right?

She thought of Yaz, of her crusted eyelids, her open sores, her cracked, whispering voice. The blood soaking through the robe she was wearing. What sort of monster would do that to an innocent life?

The goddess looked at her through heavy, half-closed lids. “Since when did you have that right?”

“What right?”

Pain laughed hoarsely, a dry rattle in her throat. “The right to decide what is right and wrong. You… you want to kill me. Who appointed you as judge of the universe. Do you see yourself as a goddess, like me?”

The Doctor flushed red, her nostrils flaring. “I am in  _ no way _ like you,” she hissed. “I’m no god.”

“But you’re acting like one.”

Before she knew what she was doing, the Doctor was grabbing the goddess by the shoulders. “Don’t you  _ dare _ talk to me like that. What makes you think I won’t kill you where you sit?”

The goddess shrugged. She seemed more clear-headed, more aware of what was going on around her. That worried the Doctor. “You’re the Doctor,” she said simply. “You don’t kill. You just hurt, and traumatize, and commit genocide to further your own cause. You pick which side is right and to hell with the others. You’ll use those with talents, and discard them once their usefulness is done. What will happen to your companions, Doctor, once you get bored of them? Will you abandon them? Hurt them? All I know is that you won’t kill them, not directly. Because you can’t do something like that. You can’t kill people you know.” She watched the Doctor closely, but with detachment, with amusement. “That’s how I know you won’t kill me. You know me.  _ You’re inside my head.” _

The Doctor dropped her hands to her sides. “How did you know?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“How did I know?” Pain asked incredulously. She gave a harsh laugh. “Doctor, my  _ dear _ , were you not listening when I told you that my mental capacity has been greatly improved? Do you think I don’t  _ know _ when someone turns my own mental powers against me?” She got up slowly, still a bit unsteady. “And Doctor,” she added, leaning suddenly into her, “you’ve just lost your chance to kill me. If I know what’s wrong with me, I can fix it. It’s time for you to be afraid.”

_ Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in one-point-five spans. _

Both women jumped at the sound, momentarily forgetting the other. The Doctor’s eyes widened as she realized she’d forgotten about the atmosphere. The goddess’s eyes lit up.

“I want to thank you, Doctor,” she said, flashing a broad grin in her direction. “I’ve had a lot of fun on this planet, but I’ve been getting so  _ bored _ recently. Now I have the perfect excuse to leave.” She walked over to one of the side entrances, but before she left the room, she stopped and turned back. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She almost sounded hopeful.

The Doctor rolled her eyes. “It’s a big universe. I doubt it.”

“Yes, but you still don’t know who I’m working on behalf of,” the goddess said. “And you’re intrigued. I can tell.” She laughed. “I think you’ll try to hunt me down. So long!” She waved and left the room.

...Which left the Doctor with two options. She could go after the goddess and stop her, maybe killing her, or she could try to stop the atmosphere from igniting and save the day.

She still balked at the thought of killing the goddess. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t do it. She was more worried that she’d enjoy it. That sense of satisfaction, that schadenfreude—the Doctor didn’t think she could kill the goddess without feeling that, and that worried her. Maybe she hadn’t changed so much after all. Maybe she couldn’t change.

She turned her attention to the throne instead, choosing to dwell on absolutes and science. She could ponder philosophy and her inherent nature some other time, when there was actually time to slow down and think. But she needed to save the planet first.

The throne was overturned, wires spilling out from somewhere behind it, the reds and blues and whites tangled in one giant headache of a mess. The cool female voice was still counting down the spans until the destruction of the planet, and it was making it all very difficult for the Doctor to think. She walked over to the throne and peeked around it, almost scared to see what the setup was.

It wasn’t quite what the Doctor had been expecting and, to tell the truth, fretting over. To be quite honest, the equipment was old, outdated. Laughably so. But it also was confusing. All of the Doctor’s senses were screaming that it was wrong.

The setup was clearly Gallifreyan in origin. For one thing, the automated countdown was using spans as the go-to method of measuring time. For another, there was a great big Seal of Rassilon on the box. And, of course, the Doctor recognized Gallifreyan technology easily. It was one of the more distinctive forms of technology in the universe. But that wasn’t what was so wrong with it.

No, it was the fact that the Doctor hadn’t seen it in millennia. The fact that it was from a diverging timeline, one that had been written over by the current timeline. It was from a time where Time Lord weapons weren’t just deadly, they were sadistic. A darker, grimmer time, where not even Daleks were the biggest threat on the horizon.

But it made no sense. That timeline had been written over. She’d seen to it herself. She’d replaced it with the current timeline, effectively erasing all of that from the universe. The technology shouldn’t have existed, not unless it fell through a gap between timelines, and even then it shouldn’t be able to work.

The Doctor leaned forward and poked at the box gingerly, a look of distaste on her face, rather like a child poking at a hated food that ended up on their plate. And she got to work.

 

—————

 

Ryan didn’t feel comfortable with leaving Yaz in the medbay, so he sent Graham in to sit with her. Graham was a comforting presence to Yaz, at least, Ryan thought so. She always seemed calmer around Graham.

Unfortunately, that left him alone with Tam, Haren, and the other Faurels, and that wasn’t really a place he wanted to be. He couldn’t help but feel that Haren didn’t like him. And he could already tell that if Haren didn’t like him, the others wouldn’t, either.

So he kept his mouth shut as much as he could. He wished he knew what button activated the scanner, but the Doctor was reluctant to show any of them the controls of the TARDIS. He could understand her reasoning; after all, the mechanics of a space-and-time-ship had to be incredibly confusing. It was probably really easy to mess something up and accidentally end the universe or something.

He glanced awkwardly at Haren, who watched him impassively. “I, uh,” he said, trying to come up with an excuse to get out of there. “Uh. I should go help the Doctor with...uh, whatever she needs help with. A distraction.”

Oh, wait. That would put him back in the same vicinity as the goddess. And yeah, the goddess had been acting weird, but would she still be acting that way? And for that matter, had that been a trap to get him to let his guard down? She’d tricked him before, after all.

Haren raised her impressively thick eyebrows. “You would put yourself in danger for your friend?” she asked, and the surprise so evident in her voice was enough to rile Ryan.

“Of course I would,” he exclaimed. “I’ve done it before, haven’t I?” He turned to Tam, and Haren whipped her head around to look at him, almost accusingly. For his part, Tam looked like he wanted to disappear.

“Yes,” he said, his voice quiet. “I suppose so. You went to save Yaz, even though it was dangerous.”

“See?” Ryan said, his voice louder than he intended.

“I meant no offense,” Haren said, her words clipped. “I was surprised, but it does not mean I disapprove. I wish more people shared your devotion to your friends.” She sounded almost bitter.

“Oh. Okay.” Ryan wasn’t sure how to respond. He decided to end the conversation right there, and he went over to the door of the TARDIS and opened it just a crack, peeking out. He felt foolish, but he wanted to stay safe if possible.

The goddess was on the ground, struggling into a sitting position. She looked bad, like she was sick or hurt or something. The Doctor stood over her, hands clenched in fists at her sides, a defiant expression on her face. If Ryan didn’t know who was who, he would have thought that the Doctor was the bad one, not the goddess. The two appeared to be talking. The Doctor seemed to be getting angry about something.

Then the goddess stood up. She was taller than the Doctor, and a much more impressive figure. She looked like someone who was in charge. And then, as Ryan watched, she just walked away. And the Doctor just let her, watching her go with that same sort of  _ fury _ on her face. What was going on?

The Doctor stood there for a moment, not doing anything, then walked over to the throne, to the wires behind it. This was Ryan’s chance. He could find out what was going on.

He walked over to the Doctor, realizing now that he hadn’t actually spoken to her since they arrived on Faure. They’d been separated for all this time. Had the Doctor missed him? Had she been worried about him?

He watched as the Doctor bent over the wires and the strange metal box, then tapped her on the shoulder.

She jumped.

“Doctor,” Ryan said quickly. “What’s going on?”

She glanced up at him, then turned back to the box, her fingers finding wires and switches. “The atmosphere is going to ignite very shortly unless I do something about it, and-”

“No, I already know about that,” Ryan said, cutting her off. “I mean, what’s  _ really _ been happening? I saw what happened between you and the goddess.” She looked back at him, then, her eyes widening. “I think,” said Ryan, slowly, “you need to tell me and Graham and Yaz a thing or two.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Death
> 
> ...I promise there’s still at least one more chapter, even if this seems a bit like an ending.

A look of annoyance briefly flashed across the Doctor’s face, to be replaced by that concern, that intense concentration that she often had on her face during a time of crisis. “Ryan,” she said, her voice unusually harsh, “we don’t have  _ time _ for that right now.”

“Then make time for it, okay?” Ryan cried, unintentionally raising his voice. “You let the goddess go! I watched you!”

“Ryan…” the Doctor began, but he cut her off.

“And you left me and Yaz to the goddess! You saw what happened to Yaz! And you didn’t even  _ bother _ looking for me!”

“I was captured,” the Doctor tried.

Ryan ignored her. “I’ve been  _ terrified _ , Doctor, okay? You haven’t had to spend the past—the past—however long it’s been—wondering if today’s the day she’ll get bored of you and start torturing you, or if Yaz has died of her injuries since you last saw her!”

“I understand that,” said the Doctor tightly, her voice quiet. “And I’m truly sorry about what has happened. I can’t believe I wasn’t able to stop it before now, and I’ll do my best to make sure Yaz gets taken care of. But right now, I need to take care of this device!”

As if on cue, the device chimed in, with a cheery, ‘Warning. Atmosphere to ignite in five microspans.’

The Doctor’s head snapped around, away from Ryan, back to the small box. She pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and began poking at wires with it, the screwdriver buzzing.

_ Warning. Atmospheric deflagration accelerated. Atmosphere to ignite in three microspans. _

The Doctor let out a frustrated cry. She dropped her hands to her sides, her sonic screwdriver going silent. It almost seemed like an acceptance of defeat. One hand went to her face; the other dropped the sonic screwdriver back into her pocket.

It took Ryan a moment to realize that she had tears in her eyes.

“What’s going on, Doctor?” he asked, his anger melting away. If the Doctor was crying, something very bad was going to happen indeed.

She blinked, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she said, “except I just failed to disconnect a device that shouldn’t even exist in this timeline in the first place.” She looked at the metal box helplessly, then jerked her head back to look at Ryan. “You. Into the TARDIS. Now.”

Her mood was entirely different. It almost scared Ryan. She looked, if not triumphant, at least hopeful. He wondered how she could do that, just change her mood quicksilver like that.

But he wasn’t going to argue with her, not if the atmosphere was going to ignite in three microspans. However long three microspans was.

“What’s the plan, then?” he asked, as they sprinted back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor managed to shrug. She skidded to a halt in front of the TARDIS and leaned against it, panting. “This body isn’t a sprinter,” she said, between breaths. “More of a long-distance runner.”

Ryan ignored that bit. “What’s the plan, Doctor?” he asked again.

She held up a finger and he shut up. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Let’s get inside.” She fumbled for her key and opened it up. She made shooing motions at Ryan with her hands, making sure he got into the TARDIS before her. Ryan got the distinct feeling she wasn’t telling him something.

Once they were inside the TARDIS, the Doctor greeted Haren enthusiastically. She seemed full of energy, excited about something. Gone were the tears that had reflected off the dying daylight in the throne room. There was no sign, in fact, that the Doctor had even been upset about anything.

“Doctor!” Haren exclaimed, her wrinkled old voice surprised. “Where is the goddess?”

The Doctor’s face darkened momentarily. “She’s not here right now,” she said shortly. “So we need to do what we can with the time we have left.”

“Your friend Ryan said that the planet would explode,” Haren replied, equally curt, “but he didn’t know how much time we had left.”

“I can answer that.” If the Doctor had noticed Haren’s rude tone, she didn’t show it.

“Well?”

The Doctor held up a finger, like she was testing the air. “Not nearly enough,” she replied, her voice authoritative, like that answered everyone’s questions.

Ryan tried not to roll his eyes.

“And your plan?” Haren asked, obviously unimpressed.

A wild grin began to spread across the Doctor’s face, one that scared Ryan a bit. “I’m gonna save this planet, of course!” she exclaimed.

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Haren said, “But we didn’t want that.”

The grin faded slightly from the Doctor’s face. “What?” she asked, her voice confused.

“I said, we didn’t want that,” Haren said again.

“No, no, I heard you the first time,” the Doctor murmured, waving her hand in the air as if it would clear her mind. “But...” She looked at Haren, and then at the other Faurels, who were watching with wide eyes. “Don’t you want your planet to be saved?” she asked.

Haren sighed. “I already spoke to you about this, did I not?” she asked rhetorically. “We want a new planet. A new world. Remember? This one is too far gone. We’ll never be able to rebuild, not after what the goddess has done to us.”

As the Doctor and Haren continued to argue, Ryan wandered away. He knew he was safe in the TARDIS; he wouldn’t have to worry about the planet exploding or anything. It was hard to feel any sense of urgency about it. He walked out of the console room and down one of the many softly-lit corridors, habit taking him to his room.

It took him a moment to realize that he had been followed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Tam ducked his head apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, clearly embarrassed. “I saw you leave, and since Haren and the Doctor aren’t getting anywhere with their argument, I thought that maybe I’d see what you were doing.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ryan said quickly. “But it’ll be boring, because I don’t know what I’m doing.” He turned, about to open the door to his room, but Tam grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Listen,” said Tam urgently, his eyes wide. “I need you to come back to that first room with me and get them to stop. Even if they figure out what to do, there won’t be time to save the others back in the base. Or Miren.”

“Miren?” Ryan paused for a moment, blinking. “Oh, right, the guard.”

Tam’s grip on his arm tightened; it was painful now. “Not just the guard,” he whispered. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Ryan managed to wrench his arm out of Tam’s grasp. “Why? What’s going on with the guard?”

“I told you that I had an older sister,” Tam said quietly. “She was taken by the guards after my parents died?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, no one knows what happens to the people taken prisoner by the goddess,” Tam said. “And my older sister’s name was Miren, and she mentioned having a little brother.”

“And you’re thinking, what are the odds?” Ryan guessed.

“Listen,” said Tam earnestly, “even if she isn’t my sister, she needs medical attention. She’s not working for the goddess anymore, and she’s seriously injured. She needs to be saved.”

“I suppose so,” Ryan agreed. “Come on,” he added. “We need to tell the Doctor about this.”

And so they ran, back to the console room, straight into the middle of the Doctor ushering the Faurels out. She looked harried. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Ryan and Tam. “Ryan!” she called. “Get your friend out! He needs to hunt down anyone he can who can be saved and bring them to the throne room. There’s enough time to save a few people still!”

Ryan clasped Tam’s shoulder. “Run!” he advised. “Looks like you can still find Miren and save her!”

Tam nodded and took off, running as quickly as he could, out of the throne room and through the maze that was the palace corridors.

“Well,” said the Doctor, shutting the TARDIS doors behind the Faurels. “That wasn’t how I expected today to go.”

“What are we doing now?” Ryan asked. “Tam said something about a base?”

The Doctor looked shifting from the scanner to Ryan, then back to the scanner. “There aren’t any other people in the base,” she said quickly. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

She looked up at him now, with big, sorrowful eyes. “I’m afraid that the goddess got to them,” she whispered.

“So they’re dead?” Ryan asked, incredulous.

“If they aren’t dead yet, they will be in two microspans,” the Doctor said. Her voice was still quiet, but it had become more firm. More certain.

“And you’re not gonna try and save them?”

“I’m already trying to save Haren and the people who are here!” the Doctor snapped. “I can’t always save everyone, you know!”

Ryan really did roll his eyes this time. “I  _ did _ know that, thanks,” he said coldly, carefully keeping the emotion out of his voice. He finally had figured out how to speak without showing emotion, and it excited him more than he cared to admit. “I’ve known since I first met you, actually, when my Nan died saving the world. You couldn’t save her, and now you can’t save these people. The planet is gonna explode in two microspans, however long that is, and you’ve let the goddess escape. You know what? I don’t think you even care.”

The Doctor recoiled as if she’d been slapped, and Ryan almost felt sorry. And then he remembered Yaz. If the Doctor had cared, if she had cared even the smallest amount, she would have done something sooner. She would have saved them.

“I care,” the Doctor whispered.

“No, you don’t,” Ryan replied, his voice casually dismissive. “You say all of this grand stuff about protecting the universe and saving the day and being the good guy, but you don’t care. Let’s count this up, Doctor: you let me and Yaz get captured by the goddess, you let Yaz get tortured by the goddess, you let the goddess escape, you’re refusing to rescue half the people on this planet, and the planet’s gonna blow up soon. All of this because you care so much.” His voice was dripping with more sarcasm than he was aware he possessed.

“Technically, the planet won’t explode,” the Doctor said quickly. “The atmosphere is going to ignite and burn up. The planet will still exist, but it’ll expose the surface of the planet to the vacuum of space. There won’t be any air or heat.”

“And that’s so much better than an explosion,” Ryan responded, still sarcastic.

“It is because I care that this is absolutely killing me to do this,” the Doctor said, her voice shaking. Ryan looked at her quickly, and was surprised at how pale she was.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

The Doctor wasn’t looking at him; instead, she was staring at some fixed point over his shoulder. “Right after we arrived here, after you had been taken prisoner by the goddess, Graham and I managed to get back to the TARDIS, where I then spent some time researching events on Faure, trying to find out more about the goddess. In my research, I learned that it was blocked off from the rest of the universe for seven years in a self-quarantine, and when the quarantine lifted, the planet was a dead rock, with no atmosphere. No one knew what happened to Faure, and in some circles it is considered one of the universe’s great mysteries.”

“And?” asked Ryan.

She fixed him with a piercing stare, and Ryan suddenly felt like the Doctor knew everything about him, even his most intimate secrets. “There were no survivors, Ryan. There was no offshoot Faurel colony. The people went extinct.”

“But we can change that, right?” Ryan asked desperately, suddenly realizing what the Doctor was getting at.

The Doctor slowly shook her head, and then she pulled the dematerialization switch. “We’re leaving.”

Graham walked into the room, hands in pockets. “Yaz is asleep now,” he informed no-one-in-particular. “She…” His voice died off as he saw the looks on the Doctor’s and Ryan’s faces. “What’s been going on?” he asked.

Ryan swiped angrily at his eyes. He was  _ not _ going to cry, he wasn’t, he wouldn’t let himself. “The Doctor,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice even, “has just killed everyone.”

 

—————

  
  


__ _ And Haren and the others ran through the corridors of the palace, but they were unable to find another living being in the place, so they returned to the throne room. _

__ _ But as they reached the room, they saw the TARDIS fading into oblivion; a grinding noise filled the air that carved reality into being around it. Haren ran towards the TARDIS shouting, wondering why they were being abandoned. _

__ _ And she collapsed, choking, and she and her compatriots in the fight against the goddess Pain died, died at the hand of Pain’s great enemy. _

  
  


_ And Tam ran to the cell where they had first entered the palace and found Miren lying there, still on the floor. Her eyes were closed, but they flew open on his arrival. _

__ _ “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice weak. _

__ _ “Saving your life,” he replied with a grin. And then he paused, hesitant, and asked, “Did you have a little brother named Tam?” _

__ _ Her face lit up. “Do you know him? Is he…” She coughed. “Is he okay?” _

__ _ “He’s standing right in front of you,” Tam said, and he knelt down beside his sister and embraced her, and they were laughing and crying together, tears of joy at such an improbable reunion, a reunion at the end of the world. _

__ _ And the air was sucked from the room as the atmosphere burned away, and Tam and his sister Miren asphyxiated and froze, forever embracing one another in their joyous, unlikely reunion. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible about doing this. I’m sorry. I don’t know if anyone has any emotional connections to any of the ocs from this story, but I definitely do! I didn’t cry writing this chapter, but this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to crying while writing.


	20. Chapter 20

When Yaz woke up, it was to the sound of arguing. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on—the world was hazy around her, like she was living in a fog. It took her a moment to realize that her headache, the one that had been constant, pounding from the moment she woke up imprisoned, was gone.

She rubbed her head, still confused, and felt a twinge at her side as she reached up. Gingerly, she pulled up the side of her shirt (She wondered vaguely when she had put on a shirt. She didn’t remember doing that.), revealing large bandages going up her sides, from hip to armpit.

It wasn’t until then that she really noticed her surroundings. Instead of the dingy, broken torture chamber she had been trapped in, the room was clean. White. There were several beds in a line, all made up in pristine white sheets. Machines hovered around each bed, and as Yaz continued to look around, she saw the same machines around her bed. What’s more, she appeared to be connected to some of them via various tubes and wires.

_ Was I really hurt that badly? _ she wondered, inspecting a thin tube running down her forearm like some sort of IV. The pain inflicted by the goddess was fading in her memory, the cuts her only reminder.

More shouting from outside the room roused Yaz from her inspection. Carefully, she got up and began to make her way to the door, pulling one of the machines alongside her. In all honesty, she needed the machine for support. Her legs felt weak, like she hadn’t used them in weeks. She wondered how long it had been since she last stood. Maybe it _had_ been weeks.

She stumbled to the door and it buzzed open, sensing her approach. Yaz wondered for a fleeting moment how bad her hair looked, and then realized that it honestly didn’t matter. She liked looking nice, but she supposed even being able to stand and walk was better than where she was at just thirty minutes ago.

The corridor she recognized as being part of the TARDIS. It had the same roundelled walls, the same soft, golden glow, and then her memory hit her sharply and she stumbled, hand finding the wall.

She remembered crawling desperately to the TARDIS, praying like she had never prayed before, desperately hoping that the Doctor could keep the goddess from noticing that she was escaping, falling into the TARDIS, being helped by people—what people, though?—and finally collapsing against the back wall. And then Ryan helped her, Ryan and someone else, only she didn’t know who the other person was.

How long had she been sleeping? She vaguely remembered Graham coming in and talking to her, telling her how relieved he was to see her, and how she’d be feeling better soon, but she didn’t know how she could ever feel truly better.

She continued walking down the corridor, one hand relying on the wheeled machine she pulled alongside her, the other resting on the wall. The soft light brightened as the TARDIS sensed her presence. The floor felt cool against her bare feet.

What had been going on? Yaz hated that she hadn’t been able to help at all. She liked helping the Doctor. Saving the day was fun. Exhilarating. And with the Doctor, it generally turned out well.

She remembered her thoughts about the Doctor’s morality, the thoughts she’d had back when she was trapped by the goddess. They seemed so silly now. It was paranoia created by her situation at the time. Now that she was safe, now that she was getting better, now that she had been saved by the Doctor, she felt almost guilty about questioning the Doctor, even privately.

But then, when she thought about it some more, she began to question the Doctor again. She wanted to know why the Doctor couldn’t have saved her sooner, why she had to be subjected to the goddess for all of that. The Doctor needed to have some good answers to be able to make up for leaving her there.

The arguing voices were getting louder and nearer. It sounded like they were in the console room. Yaz peeked through the doorway, tentatively checking what was going on. She didn’t know if she had the stomach for arguments, not right now.

Ryan and Graham were standing at the far end of the console room together, the Doctor at the other end of the room. All three appeared upset, and Yaz wondered what had happened.

That was the problem with being tortured almost to the point of death, she supposed. You miss all the important stuff.

“I couldn’t do anything!” the Doctor was shouting. She sounded like she was trying to justify it to herself as much as to Graham and Ryan. Whatever it was she had done.

“And why not?” Graham bellowed. His arm was around Ryan. Protective as ever. “You’re always telling us what we can’t do. Why couldn’t we  _ do _ something for once?”

The Doctor waved a hand in the air, her other hand rubbing her face. She looked tired, and suddenly so very, very old. “It’s difficult to explain to...to non-Time Lords,” she said.

“So we’re just supposed to accept what you did and move on?” Ryan asked, and again, Yaz wondered what it was that the Doctor did. “We’re just too stupid to understand?”

“No, of course not!” the Doctor cried. “But you don’t understand how important the Web of Time is to reality. It’s literally impossible for you to understand just how big it is. You don’t have the scope.”

“You’ve talked about the Web of Time before,” Graham said. “It’s your excuse anytime we allow something bad to happen. We had to protect the Web of Time, so Rosa Parks had to be thrown off a bus. We had to protect the Web of Time, so Yaz’s grandmother became a widow the same day she was married.”

“It’s bullshit,” Ryan added.

“This is what I mean when I say that it’s impossible for you to understand,” the Doctor said, her voice pained.

“Then explain it to us!” Ryan said loudly. “You’re not listening to us, we  _ want _ you to explain why you killed those people!”

Oh. Yaz finally understood why Ryan and Graham were so angry. She wondered who the Doctor had killed, then wondered if she had killed the people who had helped her into the TARDIS.

She immediately dismissed the thought from her brain. The Doctor wouldn’t have killed those people. There was no way she would do that. The Doctor was good. Right?

“I  _ had _ to,” the Doctor was explaining. “I had to protect history. According to written history, every Faurel died, without any offshoot colonies. Their species went  _ extinct. _ Do you know what would happen if I let them live?”

“Uh, they’d live,” Ryan replied. “That one is pretty obvious.”

The Doctor took a deep breath before replying, and Yaz got the distinct sense that the Doctor was very annoyed. “Ryan,” she said slowly, with forced calm, “you’ve never been forced to live with the consequences of breaking the Web of Time. Reality itself begins fracturing, history splits apart, the very universe could be destroyed!”

“And saving—how many Faurels was it?”

“Fifty-two,” Graham put in helpfully.

“Yeah. Saving fifty-two Faurels will destroy the universe?” Ryan asked.

“If history says they were supposed to die, then saving them will,” the Doctor said quietly. “I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“That’s utter shit,” Yaz said. She’d meant to say it under her breath, but it came out a bit louder than intended. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she could feel a soreness in the back of her throat.

The other three jumped at the sound of her voice. It would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

“Yaz?” the Doctor asked. “What’re you doing up?” She sounded so  _ worried, _ so concerned that Yaz could almost forgive her for all of this. That probably wasn’t a good thing, given that the Doctor had apparently murdered a bunch of people.

“I’m feeling better,” Yaz replied shortly. She wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by the Doctor’s large, pleading eyes or the concern written across her face.

Ryan broke away from Graham’s protective grasp and ran to her, hugging her tightly.

“Ow,” Yaz gasped. “Watch out, Ryan. Bruises still aren’t all gone.”

He relaxed the hug slightly. “Sorry.”

Yaz relaxed into the hug, and even managed a smile. “You alright?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that,” he said. He sounded relieved. Yaz could hear him smiling.

“I’m fine,” Yaz replied. “Well, not quite fine,” she added thoughtfully. “But I will be soon.”

He laughed slightly. “I was so worried about you. I thought you might-” His voice broke. “I thought you might die.”

She squeezed him tightly, then broke the hug. “I thought so too,” she admitted. “But it’s okay. I’m okay.” She paused, trying to ignore how hurt the Doctor was by her dismissal. “What’s been going on?”

Ryan shrugged. “Got thrown in jail by the goddess. Escaped. Found Graham and one of the last unharmed Faurels. Accidentally started a timer that would burn up the atmosphere.” He flashed a quick smile. “The usual.”

Yaz rolled her eyes.

“And then,” Graham added, “the Doctor found out the goddess is a Time Lord, let her escape, and tricked all of the Faurels into leaving the TARDIS, then left right before the atmosphere burned up, killing everyone on the planet.”

“Oh, fantastic,” said the Doctor bitterly. “Turn Yaz against me, too. How many times do I have to explain to you, I had no choice!”

“There’s always a choice, Doctor,” Graham said. “You chose to kill them.”

“Because if they lived, the universe would be destroyed!” The Doctor covered her face with her hands.

“It was only fifty-two people,” Ryan said.

“Yes, and I’ve had to stop the universe from collapsing after saving just one! I didn’t die when I was supposed to, hundreds of years ago now, and we all were trapped in a parallel universe that was collapsing because my living beyond that point rendered the universe so unstable. When I tried to save the life of my best friend, who died so that others could live, the universe couldn’t handle it! She wiped my memory and left me so that she could go and die!” Tears were collecting in the Doctor’s eyes, and her voice shook. “All of these  _ thousands _ of years that I’ve been alive, I’ve been trying to save lives, and the universe has been telling me to stop. So I’m giving in. The universe wants these people dead, and if I let them live, something worse will happen. So they’ll die. I’m playing by the rules. I’m letting the universe be the boss.”

The others stared at her. Yaz didn’t know if she’d ever seen the Doctor like this; so angry and upset. It dawned on her that the Doctor genuinely believed in what she was saying.

“You’re giving up?” she asked tentatively.

The Doctor shrugged. “What other choice do I have?” Her voice was bitter.

“You can fight like you always have,” Yaz suggested. “It’s not your fault that some people have died. It isn’t your fault that Ryan’s nan died, or that Prem died. It’s your fault that you’re giving up, Doctor.”

“And what do  _ you _ know about giving up, Yasmin Khan?” the Doctor asked.

“I didn’t give up once when I was imprisoned by the goddess,” Yaz said. She tried not to sound too proud of herself. “I was tortured and hurt and didn’t know what was happening at all. But I refused to give her any information about you, and I was always certain you’d come and rescue me. I knew you would, even though the goddess always told me that you wouldn’t come back.”

“That’s different,” the Doctor began, but Yaz cut her off.

“How?”

The Doctor didn’t answer.

“You have to keep fighting. You choose to save the day, you always want to help people out. You won’t always save everyone. It’s your choice to let that affect you.”

“I know that,” said the Doctor, sounding annoyed. “And it’s all well and good to say that, but you have no idea what sort of things I’ve done.”

“Because you never  _ tell _ us,” Yaz exclaimed. “And if you never tell anyone, all of those things you’ve done will just stack on top of each other, until you get so depressed you start giving up.”

“I don’t tell you because I want you to stay!” the Doctor burst out.

“What?” Yaz asked, glancing at Ryan and Graham. They looked just as confused as she felt.

“If you knew the kinds of things I’ve done, you’ll leave. You’ll hate me, and you’ll leave, and I’ll be alone again.”

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take,” Graham said. “Because doing stuff like you just did on Faure is just as likely to make us hate you and leave.”

“You hate me?” the Doctor asked.

Graham hesitated. “No,” he finally said. “But Doctor?”

“What?”

“It’s going to take a long time for us to trust you. You know that, right?”

The Doctor sighed, and it looked like she was deflating. She nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said, nodding. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know.”

One by one, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham left the Doctor, heading to various places in the TARDIS. Yaz stopped to ask them how long they had been on the planet and how long she had been unconscious, and learned that the whole escapade, from their landing to her waking up in the medbay, had been three weeks.

Yaz mused on that as she slowly made her way to her bedroom. Twenty-one days. That’s all it was. Two and a half weeks on Faure had been enough to drive the Doctor to instigating the deaths of those Faurels.

She remembered bits and pieces of the goddess’s taunts thrown at the Doctor. They all had to do with the Doctor’s goodness, and how the Doctor wasn’t as good as she led others to believe.

She thought of the Doctor, crying in the console room, afraid that they’d leave her if they knew the bad things she’d done. And she made her way to her bedroom, already tired from all that had happened since she’d woken up. She wondered if she’d ever be able to think of the Doctor in the same way.

And the Doctor was left in the console room, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has come to an end, as all things must. And I know—it ends on a not-quite-satisfactory note. That’s because it’s the first in a series. And I’m already working on the second in the series! You’ll have to keep an eye out for it, if you liked this fic.  
> Thank you all for reading and leaving kudos and commenting! I’ve eagerly read every single comment on this fic, and they all make me so happy.


End file.
